


Salvage

by helens78, Telesilla



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Dom/sub, F/F, Humiliation, Master/Slave, POV Female Character, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-20
Updated: 2004-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Liam lets go of Carrie-Anne's contract, Rene is there to pick it up.  Rene's the kind of mistress who likes to fix her toys and see that they're in good condition, but it's going to take some time to see Carrie-Anne get there.  <strong>Unfinished.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transfer

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters were written between December 2003 and July 2004. We never did manage to finish the arc, but wanted to archive it anyway! Mmm, kinky edgeplay f/f. :D

For all that Carrie-Anne seemed livid as Pierce took her out of Liam's home, she's been quiet for the drive back to Pierce's house. Pierce is impressed, although he certainly wouldn't tell _her_ that; she likely wouldn't accept the compliment anyway.

He hasn't bothered trying to talk to her on the drive; he's not all that interested, really. He's gotten what he wanted out of this transaction: a weekend with Carrie-Anne's new owner, as a finder's fee; Liam owing him a favor. Pierce is, largely, satisfied, and while goading Carrie-Anne might be an amusing way to spend a drive home, it might also be overdoing things. Pierce has no love of excess, and so he stays quiet himself as he pulls into his garage.

"Ready?" he asks, not too concerned one way or the other about whether she is or not; he's simply looking forward to seeing what happens when she finds out who bought her contract from Liam. He gets out of the car and slams the door shut, still simply assuming she'll keep up as he makes his way into the house.

Carrie-Anne feels numb, as if she'd burned out the last little bit of emotion back at her master's...Liam's house. The only emotion she can manage is a sense of vague gratitude toward Pierce, of all people. He could have made the ride a good deal more difficult; she's been exposed to the sharp side of his wit on more than one occasion.

Now she scrambles out of the car after him, fear beginning to push past the numbness. A new owner...she almost stumbles as she realizes she doesn't even know if it's a man or a woman.

 _Six months,_ she thinks as she follows Pierce. _I just have to hold on for six months._ The thought is achingly familiar; she's been thinking some variation of it for over three years.

Pierce brings Carrie-Anne into the sitting room; there's a woman wrapped in a very plush white bathrobe draped over the couch, on her right side, sipping at a cup of tea and reading. When Pierce and Carrie-Anne enter, she pushes herself slowly upright and looks from one to the other. No expression; not yet.

"Rene, your new girl," Pierce drawls. "Lass, do you remember Rene?"

Rene. Rene Russo. Carrie-Anne barely even looks at her before dropping to her knees and putting her head to the floor, taking refuge in formality.

 _Why her?_ she wonders. She knows that her master got rid of her because of Jason, but had Rene asked before? Shown any interest? Thinking back over the handful of times they've actually been in the same place at the same time -- usually parties in this very house -- Carrie-Anne can't remember Rene taking any real notice of her. Certainly Rene never asked to borrow her, even though Carrie-Anne's master was known to be generous with his girl's time.

Rene shifts on the couch. Her expression stays absolutely, perfectly neutral. She waits a few moments before saying anything; Pierce is watching, and probably thinking something very sarcastic about Rene's pace here, but Rene takes no notice.

After a while, Rene draws her fingers lightly through Carrie-Anne's hair, scratching very gently at the nape of her neck.

"Kneel up, girl," she murmurs. Her voice is low, almost smoky; her tone is very, very patient. She leaves her hand lightly on the back of Carrie-Anne's neck, giving her enough room to move comfortably but keeping them connected through that touch.

Shivering, not sure if it's from fear or the fact that Rene's found one of her sensitive spots, Carrie-Anne kneels up. "Yes Ma'am," she says softly, keeping her eyes down and her back straight. She automatically goes into the rest of her common kneeling position, knees spread somewhat, hands on her thighs.

 _Automatic,_ she thinks. _Yes, that's it; that's exactly how I feel right now. I'm on auto-pilot._ It occurs to her that this should worry her.

Rene's gaze rests on Carrie-Anne's closed eyes. She wonders if Carrie-Anne can feel how closely Rene is looking at her, how Rene is nearly memorizing the way her eyelashes fall over her cheeks.

"You can go now, Pierce," Rene murmurs. "Leave the contract on the table."

In spite of her numb unhappiness, Carrie-Anne can't help but be impressed. Her master was frequently casual around Pierce but never ordered him around like that. She wonders what Rene's relationship with Pierce is like, wonders how Rene fits into this world of slaves, owners and contracts.

And then it hits her. She's been sold; her master no longer is really her master. She can't keep the tears from coming, although her training holds and so they slide down her face silently.

Pierce leaves the contract on the table, as ordered, and leaves the room in silence. Rene still doesn't look at him, though she's glad he was cooperative -- she did tell him she'd have his balls in a sling if he did anything to undermine her authority here, and she's glad they understand each other well enough for him to know she was deadly serious.

The tears don't surprise Rene at all; she keeps her hand on the back of Carrie-Anne's neck, leaning forward slightly, and waits a few minutes to see if they'll pass.

Not sure if Rene even likes tears the way Liam did, Carrie-Anne struggles to contain them, trying to push her feelings of loss and fear into the part of her brain that holds things for later processing.

 _Always assuming I'll be able to go back to the loft,_ she thinks, suddenly beset with new fears. She doesn't think Rene lives in London, and now she wonders if she'll be expected to live with Rene the way her master's boys live with him.

A few deep breaths and Carrie-Anne has the tears under control and she remains still and passive under Rene's hand. _Patience becomes a slave,_ she reminds herself.

Rene is impressed. Very impressed. She knows how badly Liam tends to break his girls -- this is one of the reasons Rene has avoided Liam's house, despite her "friendship" with Pierce -- and yet the fact that Carrie-Anne can bring herself under control this way, without so much as a verbal order... Rene nods to herself, completely certain now that the weekend was worth it.

"Girl," Rene says quietly. "Look up at me."

Blinking, Carrie-Anne looks up, fighting to meet Rene's eyes. She's not used to meeting her master's eyes, and this is just one more reminder that she's not with him any more. She swallows hard and tries not to start crying again.

 _She looks terrified,_ Rene thinks, and she's very glad her expression is locked down. She's not sure Carrie-Anne would respond well to sympathy right now, and it's not precisely what she wants to offer, anyway -- reassurance, yes, but not sympathy, not exactly.

"I'm going to ask you something, and you need to take a minute to think about it, and answer me honestly." Rene holds Carrie-Anne's eyes until she's sure her words have sunken in, then asks her question. "Do you want to belong to me?"

The words pull Carrie-Anne back to a time three and a half years ago when after a round of particularly satisfying (and kinky) sex, her new lover asked exactly the same question.

The answer she gave then -- "I already feel like I do" -- is totally inappropriate now. She stares at Rene in confusion as she tries to figure out what _is_ appropriate.

"You hold this girl's contract, Ma'am," she finally replies. "This girl is yours." It's not an answer to Rene's question, but Carrie-Anne doesn't know what else to say.

"I do hold your contract," Rene agrees, sliding her fingertips around from the nape of Carrie-Anne's neck to the line of her jaw, drawing her first two fingers down Carrie-Anne's jawline and resting them lightly under her chin. "And you do belong to me. But there are things we'll need to sort out before we get started.

"First of all, you'll call me Rene until I decide you've earned the privilege of calling me something else. You may refer to yourself as you please." Rene's eyes flash, just a little. "If I ever hear you referring to Liam as 'Master', I will strip the skin from your back, one inch at a time. Your contract with him is done, and I'm not going to compete for ownership with a ghost. You're mine, and you need to get used to that as quickly as humanly possible."

Rene sits back, very careful about the movement; her ass still aches, and will for the next few days. Damn Pierce, anyway. "The rest of it can wait; we're about to have nearly a full day's worth of travel in which to sort matters out." One eyebrow arches, almost daring Carrie-Anne to have any response to this idea. "I don't live in the UK; my home is in Los Angeles. I have all your necessary travel documents and paperwork, and we're booked on a flight that leaves in six hours. Do you have any loose ends that need to be tied up before we leave?"

It's too much to take in all at once and Carrie-Anne just gapes at Rene for a minute before she's sorting the instructions out in her head. Rene's hand on her jaw makes the task a good deal harder than it should be, and Carrie-Anne finds her own shiver of arousal to be more a distraction than anything else.

 _Rene, call her Rene. Don't ever call Master...Liam, don't call him Master. She's taking me to LA...wait a minute! LA in six hours?_

"I'm not sure if this girl has loose ends, Rene," she says. "Liam," and she can't help the tremble in her voice, "held the lease on the flat. This girl has things there, but..." She looks down, not sure if Rene wants her to have her clothes and books and music or not.

It's a good question. Rene considers it for a few moments. Liam, clearly, did not allow Carrie-Anne much sense of her own identity at home; Rene is determined to be different. As different as possible. "We'll go to your flat, then, and I'll help you pack."

Rene climbs off the couch, still keeping a very firm grip on her expression. "I need to dress," she says. "Come upstairs with me. I'll want you to help me."

Rene looks Carrie-Anne's posture over as she stands. "That's not how I'm going to want you to kneel for me," she says mildly. "But I think I'll wait to show you what I _do_ want until we're in my home. Stay two paces back and at my right shoulder." And Rene makes her way up the stairs, clinging very tightly to the banister as she goes.

Falling in behind Rene, Carrie-Anne narrows her eyes thoughtfully. She knows the look of someone who's been recently beaten and it's obvious that Rene's fairly uncomfortable.

 _This makes no sense whatsoever,_ she thinks. She's heard of owners who switch...

Almost stumbling, Carrie-Anne tries to cover her moment of shock. _That's what happened with Master and Jason!_ All of the signs point to it; Liam's odd body language, the way he so obviously felt uncomfortable when they were both fucking her, in short, the overall weirdness of that last scene.

 _He made Master get rid of me!_ she thinks angrily. _That fucking asshole!_ She fights to school her expression as they reach the guest room Rene has led her to.

Rene waits, facing away from Carrie-Anne; she's seen none of Carrie-Anne's shock, sudden understanding, confusion and anger. There's a long, flowing, casual dress and a soft cotton bra on the bed; nothing else is out. Two suitcases and a small handbag sit on the floor near the door -- Rene is packed and ready to go.

Rene unties the sash of her bathrobe and lets her arms rest at her sides. "Dress me," she says, very simply.

Carrie-Anne can't help the small gasp that escapes at the sight of the welts on Rene's rear end. _A cane,_ she thinks. _Carefully done; must have hurt like hell but didn't break the skin..._

Quickly she moves to the bed, expecting a blow at any moment for her gasp and the subsequent hesitation, she picks up the bra and steps around in front of Rene.

But Rene's expression is only curious, and maybe just slightly amused. She takes in Carrie-Anne's posture, the tension there, and shakes her head slightly. "I'm not going to punish you for that," she says quietly, still smiling just a bit. "Do you want to ask about the marks?" She lifts her arms and puts them through the bra's straps, adjusting the cups herself and holding the bra so Carrie-Anne can walk around behind her and hook it together.

Moving a little more confidently, Carrie-Anne moves behind Rene and quickly hook the bra, before turning to the bed to gather up the dress. _This will be easy,_ she thinks, grateful for the simplicity of the plain olive green dress. "It is not this girl's place to ask questions," she murmurs, although in truth she's dying of curiosity.

"If you'll please raise your arms, Ma...Rene," she says, helping Rene into the dress. _Really, this is much easier than helping Master into his tuxedo._

Rene lifts her arms, letting the fabric fall over her; it's loose, and shouldn't bother the welts at all. Carrie-Anne's hands are efficient, and the growing confidence doesn't escape Rene at all. She turns, when Carrie-Anne's done, and raises a hand to cup Carrie-Anne's cheek.

"Nicely done, girl. And you _are_ allowed to ask questions, if you want." Rene runs her thumb gently over Carrie-Anne's lips, pursing her own for a moment, debating. No, not yet.

Carrie-Anne shivers again at Rene's touch. Gentleness usually means something devious is either going on or being planned; she's much more comfortable with a rougher touch.

As for asking questions... Well, she's afraid that if she starts, she won't stop and there are too many things she can't say or ask, regardless of what Rene says.

"Will this girl be living with you, Rene?" There that's a nice, easy, neutral thing to ask as Rene obviously expects her to be curious.

"Yes. I've got a room ready for you." Rene lets her hand drop and then glances at her bags. "Can you get those?" she asks. She's not sure what condition Carrie-Anne is in herself; she doesn't appear to be holding herself in the stiff, awkward postures that imply serious damage has been done recently, but it's better to ask.

"Yes...Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, moving to pick up the suitcases. Although she's a little sore, it's nothing she's not used to; she's been in front of cameras after far more intense sessions than the one earlier at Master's house. "Your purse too, Rene?"

"No, I'll take that." Rene follows and holds her arm out so Carrie-Anne can slide it over her shoulder. "Go on back downstairs; I'm going to need to borrow one of Pierce's cars." Pierce, no doubt, will extract some other favor from Rene for this, but Rene's leaving the country in six hours; he'll have to come back to Los Angeles to do it.

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, carrying the bag downstairs. She desperately hopes she won't run into Pierce and wonders if Rene will hear about her terrible lapse in discipline. She wouldn't put it past him to tell Rene, but that thought quickly fades as she remembers Liam's last words to her.

"That's my girl."

She clings to the memory, sure he was praising her. As much as he tried to beat it out of her, she knows -- or at least believes -- that he admired her occasional show of spirit.

 _Really,_ she tells herself. _He cared._


	2. Transatlantic

Rene has a death grip on the keys in her hand, and she's not going to be coming back here to drop them off. She'll arrange for someone at the airport to get the car back to Pierce, and if he doesn't like it, she'll fly back to London and shove the keys straight up his ass and see what he thinks of _that._

"Your girl has a temper," Pierce had grinned, and then he'd proceeded to describe her behavior as the two of them left Liam's house. "You'd better watch out for her. She could end up bolting on you."

Rene knows exactly why Pierce said that; he was trying to get under her skin, trying to get Rene to take that irritation out on Carrie-Anne before the two of them are even on the plane. Not going to happen, Pierce, she thinks. _Not this time._

Still, her lips are set in a slightly-firmer-than-usual line as she makes her way to the living room and nods to Carrie-Anne. "I've got the car," she says. She pauses for a moment. "Here, why don't you drive? I assume you know how to get there, and I don't. Start with some chauffeuring duty. Don't be afraid to drive fast."

Carrie-Anne stares at the keys and then at the car once they get outside. It's a BMW, not one of the Bond movie cars but still a nice machine. She's careful to open the door and close it behind Rene before stowing the luggage in the trunk.

It's not far to her neighborhood, a former warehouse district that is now made up of trendy loft conversions. Carrie-Anne does drive fast when the traffic allows her; she's damn good behind the wheel, and as she parks the car and gets the door for Rene she wonders if her duties in LA will include driving.

Rene steps out of the car, wincing lightly as the movement stretches the welts on her backside; she comes to her feet and lets Carrie-Anne close the door behind her. "Very nicely done, girl," she says quietly. "I'm pleased." She raises her hand to the back of Carrie-Anne's neck and scratches lightly. "Now. Let's get your loft packed up."

"Thank you...Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, blushing a little and hoping Rene doesn't mind her hesitation. It's hard not to call the other woman Ma'am, particularly after being praised like that. Praise. For something as simple as driving. Liam was sparing enough with praise for his boys and downright tight with it when it came to his girl.

She makes sure to usher Rene into the building and then into her loft first. "Would Rene like this girl to get her something to drink?" She's still not sure if Rene likes or dislikes formal voice but Rene gave her a choice and she's taking the familiar path.

"No, I'm fine; if I want something, I'll ask for it," Rene says mildly. It's a very small correction; it might even slip under Carrie-Anne's radar. She hopes not; if Rene has to correct Carrie-Anne again for this, later, she'll have to be a little more severe.

Rene looks around. The loft, like many lofts of this type, is mostly open space. Rene raises an eyebrow. "Did Liam visit here often?" she asks.

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies. She looks around; the loft is in Liam's name and none of its furnishings and very little of the other contents are actually hers.

A thought occurs. "May this girl ask a question, Rene?"

Carrie-Anne's initiative makes Rene smile. Just a bit. "Of course. You can ask anything. Blanket permission. You won't always get an answer, but you can always ask."

Blinking, Carrie-Anne feels her jaw drop a little. "Oh...thank you, Rene. Did...Mr. Neeson give you this girl's passport and visas?"

"Yes," Rene says. Mr. Neeson. Well, it's a start. "Everything's in order. All we have to do is show up at the airport." Rene keeps looking around. "What would you like to bring with you?"

"This girl doesn't have many possessions, and even those are really things...Mr. Neeson allowed her to use."

Rene's going to get tired of that pause before she says Liam's name, but using Mr. is really the only way Carrie-Anne can avoid calling him Master. And even then it feels disrespectful to her, and she finds herself flinching a little inside every time she says it.

"Perhaps this girl could pack a few of the books and CDs and a little bit of clothing, if Rene allows?"

"Yes. Do that." Rene's voice is distinctly less pleased now; she is absolutely going to get tired of that little pause that comes before Liam's name. It's going to be especially bad, because she knows she's going to have to talk to Carrie-Anne about things that happened with Liam, about things Liam's done, the way things were between them.

Still, it's a large adjustment, and for now -- if only for now -- she's willing to make it. Rene stands in one place, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed, as Carrie-Anne gathers her things.

As an afterthought, she adds, "Don't bother packing anything to take on the plane with you; you'll be much too occupied for that."

Carrie-Anne flinches a little at the sound of displeasure in Rene's voice but she remains silent as she backs up a couple of suitcases. One is packed with her mysteries, accessories for her laptop, a small collection of Sufi poetry and a couple of CD holders full of the music she listened to when by herself.

The other suitcase is quickly packed with the few items of clothing that don't have connections to her time with Liam. She hesitates, looking down into her lingerie drawer and then quickly packs one of the flowing white silk nightgowns. Rene doesn't need to know that Liam bought them for her by the dozen, simply because he liked tearing them off her.

She darts into the bathroom for her few prescriptions and her various toiletries, glancing nervously at Rene through the thick glass of the bathroom wall. _I hope I'm not taking too much time,_ she thinks, unaware of the irony of the idea that half an hour would be too long to pack over three years of a life.

The last item is her laptop, which goes into the padded case. She looks around then at the loft, taking in its cold, sleek lines and the utter lack of privacy that was completely intentional, up to and including the bathroom which could be closed off from the rest of the loft but never was unless guests were over. Although she doesn't know it, her face twists into a look of pure fury as she thinks: _I hope I never see this place again._

Then, trying not to think of Rene's promise about keep her occupied on the plane, she turns to the woman who owns her. Owns her...it's all real now. She no longer belongs to Liam. She swallows against the sudden tears. "This girl is ready to leave, Rene."

"Good," Rene says, very quietly. She reaches out and strokes her hand down over Carrie-Anne's hair. "It's a big change. I realize that. You're going to have moments where it hurts, and I won't punish you for them." She takes a step back, putting a little more distance between them. "Come on. Show off more of your driving skills; get us to the airport."

Rene's tenderness is the most disturbing thing about her, Carrie-Anne thinks as she shoulders her laptop bag and picks up her suitcases. With Master tenderness was a tool, used either to lull one into a sense of false security or to simply freak one out.

Locking the door behind her, Carrie-Anne looks at the keys and then at Rene. "Please, Rene, can you see that these get back to Mr. Neeson?" She's proud that there's no hesitation in her voice, but she also knows that sooner or later she's going to screw up and call him Master.

A thought along those lines occurs to her but she quickly buries it. Who is she to be telling her new owner how to train a slave?

Rene squelches the urge to throw the keys out the nearest window as she takes them from Carrie-Anne. "I'll leave them in the car; Pierce will get them back to Liam." She's a little irritated at herself for feeling as if she needs to explain that, but Carrie-Anne clearly needs a little more reassurance when it comes to Liam than Rene would prefer. That is going to end when we get on the plane, she decides.

Rene relaxes in the passenger seat as Carrie-Anne drives them to the airport; Carrie-Anne is definitely very good at this, shifting gears very easily, without making the car jump in the least. If she's half this good here, Rene is going to be very glad indeed to get her back to LA; one of the things Rene hates most about California is the traffic and having to navigate it.

Once at the airport, Rene takes over again, flagging down an airline attendant and arranging for him to take their bags to the counter. She hands over both her own paperwork and Carrie-Anne's and murmurs to the woman behind the counter, something too low for Carrie-Anne to hear; the woman nods and hands over their boarding passes.

By the time they reach the gate, there's only a little time left before the plane begins boarding; just enough for Rene to watch Carrie-Anne begin to fidget. The fidgeting is lovely; Rene thinks she's going to enjoy this trip. She's going to enjoy it quite a bit.

The fidgeting does cause her just a little concern, though. "Do you mind flying, girl?" Rene asks softly.

Carrie-Anne hates not having anything to do while she's what she tends to think of as "on". Time spent with her master was always filled with something to do and waiting for a plane with Rene and with no book or CD player to keep her occupied is driving Carrie-Anne nuts.

"No Rene, this girl has been told she's a good traveler." She bites her lip, knowing why Rene chose to ask that now. "This girl would like to beg Rene's pardon for her fidgeting. She offers herself for punishment."

Rene frowns. "I didn't criticize the fidgeting," she says. "Are you that eager to be punished, girl?"

Her eyes wide, Carrie-Anne shakes her head. "No, Rene."

"You assume too much," Rene murmurs. "I want you to get out of the habit of assuming things. If I want something, I'll ask for it. If you displease me, I'll correct you. If you really fuck up, I'll punish you. But don't expect it to come at random."

Carrie-Anne has always known there were rules that other people followed. She's been to enough of the right parties and God knows she's read enough books to know that punishment isn't supposed to be random. But she's never been with anyone who followed those rules.

"Yes, Rene," she says softly, trying not to sound as lost as she feels.

"Good girl," Rene says. Again, it's a lot to take in, and Carrie-Anne seems to be doing her best with it. "We've got a plane to board. Let's go."

Their seats are near the front of the plane, two rows back in first class, on the left side of the cabin. Rene nods to Carrie-Anne, gesturing at the window seat. "You first," she says.

Carrie-Anne settles into her seat easily. She's gotten totally used to the amenities of first class over the last several years, and she likes to think she's used to flying with the person who owns her. At least she's wearing normal underwear and hasn't had anything stuffed anywhere. Yet.

She settles back and lets the familiar boring routine of the pre-flight nonsense wash over her. Although Rene indicated that the fidgeting wasn't a problem, she tries to keep from doing it now.

The takeoff is actually Rene's favorite part of flying; she loves the sensation of being pushed back and the lift of air under the plane as the nose comes up and the wheels leave the ground. She relaxes back into her seat as they take off, eyes closing. She's going home, she left Pierce with her skin unbroken, and she has a new girl. Life is good.

After the plane has leveled off to its cruising altitude, Rene turns to Carrie-Anne. "All right," Rene sighs. "Should I start outlining the kinds of things I'd like you to do when you're living at my house?" She leans over and adds, "my girl," very softly, breath whispering against Carrie-Anne's neck. Oh, those words will get addictive very quickly.

"Ye..." The word trails off as Carrie-Anne shivers from the touch of Rene's breath on the back of her neck. "Yes...Rene," she says shakily.

It's hard to think of practicalities, but she does her best. "May this girl have something to take notes on, please Rene?"

Rene's eyebrow arches. She'd planned on merely throwing her daily routine at Carrie-Anne, giving her too much information to take in, setting her up to fail -- and to see what failure buys her in Rene's house.

But this is _initiative_. Carrie-Anne asked for something. Rene is quite pleased, and she nods. "Ring for a flight attendant and see if she'll bring a pen and some paper. And ask for a tomato juice and a blanket for me, and anything else you might want for yourself." Rene settles back into her seat, closing her eyes.

Carrie-Anne summons the flight attendant and, in addition to the other items, orders a ginger ale for herself. She's used to ordering the best scotch they have and wonders if Rene drinks at all.

 _And if she does, how much does she change when she's had too much?_

She sets the speculations aside when the girl brings the drinks and then the blanket and the notepad and pen. She takes the blanket and then looks at Rene, wondering if she should just hand it to the other woman or actually drape it over her.

"Just put it aside for now," Rene murmurs. She takes a sip of her tomato juice and sighs; it could be better, but it could be far worse. At least it isn't that horrifying green glop she had to drink during _Thomas Crown_. "By the way, for the duration of the flight -- if you need to get up at any time, for anything, tell me. If I'm asleep, wake me." She can just imagine Liam telling Carrie-Anne to stay put no matter what, spending fourteen hours straight in one of these uncomfortable chairs.

"Thank you, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies. Privately she vows not to disturb her new owner; she's quite used to remaining quiet on flights, although to be fair, her master usually allowed her a book or her CD player.

She tests the pen on the notepad, takes a sip of her ginger ale, and then waits for Rene to instruct her.

"All right. Start with breakfast." Rene's voice takes on a steady, unfaltering pace, just a little faster than can be transcribed easily. "I take breakfast at eight o'clock, sharp, and I don't care whether you order it or make it yourself or buy it, but it needs to be on the table at eight."

Carrie-Anne quickly notes the time down. "What do you like for breakfast, Rene?" This will all be new to her; Liam's boys were the ones to see to this, and after watching them through the years, she actually feels privileged to be able to perform this sort of domestic service for her owner.

"Almost any basic traditional breakfast food. Fresh fruit, yogurt, pancakes, waffles, French toast, crepes, omelets -- you get the point. If you're interested in making up a menu for the week, you can do that, and I'll approve or disapprove your selections." Rene isn't terribly picky when it comes to her food, and she hopes that's coming across; this is an area where Carrie-Anne should have an opportunity to show off at least a little creativity, if all goes well.

"After breakfast, you'll clean up and wait for any further instructions I have for you. If there aren't any, you can have the early morning to yourself. You can go where you please, in or out of the house, as long as you're back in time for lunch. Lunch is at one p.m., sharp, and I'm a soup-salad-sandwich sort of girl."

Making more notes, Carrie-Anne looks up. "Will I..." her voice trails off and she flinches.

"Will you what, girl?" Rene asks softly.

"Will this girl be responsible for the shopping, Rene?" Carrie-Anne can't believe that she forgot formal voice and she feels about two inches tall.

 _I'm a better girl than that,_ she berates herself. Even the thought that using Rene's name instead of a title might have something to do with her lapse doesn't help.

"Would you like that, girl?" Rene asks, voice still soft. Her hand reaches out, and she trails the backs of two fingers up Carrie-Anne's arm.

Carrie-Anne blinks. Rene is almost too good to be real and she's sure the nice act will be dropped at some point. In her experience, owners aren't nice.

"If it would make your life easier, Rene, this girl would be happy to serve."

"You can sort it out with the house staff when we get home," Rene says. "You might find that you like having a few hours a week to yourself to do the shopping. Or you might find I'm keeping you busy enough that you'd be better off making a list for the staff and letting them take care of it for you. It all depends on how much attention you earn." An eyebrow goes up again. "Good or bad."

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies after a swallow. She's not used to the idea of earning good attention. She's not even sure if there is a difference between good attention and bad attention anymore. Most people would think the kind of attention she craves is bad, and there are times when she agrees with that point of view.

"During the afternoon, you'll be on call. I don't have any specific schedule laid out for you just yet. Some days you'll have every minute of your day planned. Others we'll wing it." Rene wonders which type of day will suit Carrie-Anne more, and has every confidence Carrie-Anne will be able to handle both, given enough time.

"And then dinner, seven o'clock sharp, and for that I'll expect you out of your clothes and kneeling at my side."

"Yes, Rene."

Trying to ignore the quick flash of heat that rushes through her at the idea of kneeling at Rene's side to be fed, Carrie-Anne makes the necessary notes. At the same time she can't help remember being fed scones from Liam's large hands and she finds herself once more blinking back tears.

 _I don't want to miss him, damnit._

The rapid blinking gets Rene's attention immediately, and she nods to herself. "That's all for now," she says quietly. "Put the pen and paper away; I'll finish telling you what I want in a while."

Rene leans down to the floor and gets her purse, rummaging through it. "Now would be an excellent time to get that blanket out," she says off-handedly. "Cover yourself, and I'll join you under it in a minute."

Her heart speeding up and the familiar shame and need coiling in her stomach, Carrie-Anne quickly shakes the blanket out. Blankets on airplanes usually mean some sort of sex or sexual punishment, and she can't help but be curious as to what Rene has in mind.

Rene's hand comes out of her purse, clutched around something; what it is isn't visible, and she slides her hand under the blanket before making an obvious adjustment with her hands.

She pushes the armrest between the two of them up and out of the way, and leans over, snuggling close. Her head rests on Carrie-Anne's shoulder, and she hums in approval. "My girl feels nice," she says. The edge of her hand draws up along the denim of Carrie-Anne's jeans, from her knee to her inner thigh, and her hand settles there.

There's something on Rene's hand...no on her finger, and Carrie-Anne's not sure what it is. Between her own curiosity and Rene's words, Carrie-Anne is quickly getting confused. "Than...thank you, Rene," she stammers out. "The girl is happy to have pleased you."

Formality has always been the safest route for her; it's not one hundred percent safe, nothing is when you're a slave, but it's still a familiar shield to hide behind.

"I'm going to enjoy having you around," Rene murmurs. "I think you're going to please me quite a bit. Now." She turns her head, burying her face in Carrie-Anne's neck, letting her hair fall over her face to shield it a bit. "Wriggle those jeans down over your hips for me. And be subtle about it, girl." She moves her hand off Carrie-Anne's thigh to give her room to move, but her lips press into Carrie-Anne's neck, and she nibbles very gently at the skin there.

 _Subtle. Oh, yes, I can do subtle_. Carrie-Anne carefully undoes her jeans and slides them down quickly, glad she chose a fairly loose pair earlier in the day. Even as she does it, she's sighing softly at the feel of Rene's teeth on her skin.

Good. Rene feels good there, and everything in Carrie-Anne balks at that. She's not here to enjoy what her owner does to her. If she does, it's a nice benefit, but her desires don't matter.

"What's wrong with my girl?" Rene asks softly, still nipping. "You're tense, all of a sudden. What's my girl thinking?" _My girl_. Oh, yes. She likes that.

"Your girl apologizes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies. "Your girl was forgetting her place."

Rene frowns at that. "Didn't seem that way to me," she says quietly. "Have you failed to do anything I've asked of you so far?"

"Your girl forgot that her enjoyment was not the issue here, Rene."

Rene laughs quietly. And she flicks the switch on the tiny vibrator over her index finger. "Yes, it is," she whispers. "It very, very much is." Her teeth nip a little harder into Carrie-Anne's neck as she slides her fingers between Carrie-Anne's legs, rubbing gently, exploring, letting the vibration carry over to her fingertips.

"Oh," Carrie-Anne gasps softly. She's still sore from her scene with her master and Jason back when this whole bizarre day began, but as always the pain only serves to make the pleasure sharper and more intense.

She's not sure if Rene wants her to move, so aside from spreading her legs as far as the jeans around her thighs will allow, she remains still.

"I'm going to want to hear all about the things you like," Rene whispers. "I want to know what gets you off. Turns you on. Makes your stomach go all shivery. Now, I could take things very slowly and just figure them out one at a time..." Her fingertip glides over Carrie-Anne's clit and the vibration stays steady; Rene rubs her finger in slow, lazy circles, the kind she uses on herself when it's a warm day and she has all the time in the world. "But I'm not really that patient. And I'd love to hear you tell me, in excruciating detail, all the things that please you."

Carrie-Anne's mind goes blank. Her master wanted to know these things, but he demanded that that she show him. He wasn't too kind about it and Rene's soft voice and gentle touch make Carrie-Anne want to cry.

The moment stretches out as she scrambles for words, sure that Rene will be angry with her for the hesitation. "All...everything Rene? Right now?"

Rene laughs. "No, not right now. Right now I just want you to lean back and enjoy yourself. I want you to come when you can. Can you come more than once this way?"

"If Rene wishes it, this girl can." It's been a while of course; her master didn't allow her to bring herself off unless he was watching and those sessions usually ended long before a first orgasm, let alone more than one.

"Rene wishes it," Rene murmurs. Her fingers keep moving, the same slow, steady, _I can do this all day long_ circles, and press in a little harder over Carrie-Anne's clit.

Her teeth dig into Carrie-Anne's shoulder, a firm, warning bite, and then she bites down hard, the sharp points of her teeth sinking in deep enough to bruise. The gliding motions of her fingertips stay steady, the pace not altering at all, but now the rhythm is firm, her fingertips pressing in hard, the vibration almost secondary to the pressure of her hand.

Biting her lip to keep the moan from escaping, Carrie-Anne closes her eyes and gives into the combination of pain and pleasure. While the vibrations are nice, the pressure against her clit is better.

Within minutes she's panting softly. "Please, Ma'am...Rene. This girl is...close."

"You called me 'Ma'am'," Rene chides gently. "But you caught yourself. You may come, girl."

As always, it's more the command than the actual action that gets Carrie-Anne off. With a bitten back cry, she arches subtly and comes.

And then, in that moment, with the orgasm leaving her vulnerable, the events of the day come crashing back and she begins to cry, forcing herself to do it silently.

"This...this girl is so sorry, Rene," she whispers through her tears.

Rene quickly flips the switch off on her vibrator, and puts her hand back on Carrie-Anne's thigh. It's a solid, reassuring touch, a connection, meant to say _I'm here_ and nothing more.

"It's all right," Rene whispers. "You're mine now."


	3. Immersion

Fourteen hours on a plane is exhausting beyond measure, and Rene experiences her first moment of sheer gratitude for having a girl to call her own as she and Carrie-Anne reach the car. It takes little enough effort to get the bags stowed away, and Rene sinks into the passenger seat with a small sigh.

She gives Carrie-Anne directions back to her house; it's a long drive, and by the time they're through traffic, they'll both be exhausted. Still, Rene's car is comfortable -- significantly more so than the airplane -- and she reclines the seat, taking the opportunity to nap.

She wakes up near the end of the trip, sitting up long enough to point out the house. "There," she says, yawning and rubbing at the back of her neck. "Home sweet home."

Tiredly, Carrie-Anne pulls the car into the driveway. She managed to sleep on the plane but still, she's exhausted, wired, nervous and confused. Only the tension of driving in LA after so long has kept her going.

That and her fear of disappointing Rene.

She's out of the car as soon as possible and opens Rene's door before moving to the trunk to begin getting the luggage. It's all autopilot, much like it was when she left her Master's house.

Rene steps out of the car and stretches as Carrie-Anne begins hauling bags out. She closes the door and joins Carrie-Anne at the trunk, taking the smaller of the bags and shooting Carrie-Anne a look that dares her to object.

"Come on. Let's just drop these in the doorway and go upstairs." She heads for the door and holds her hand out for the keys; when Carrie-Anne hands them over, Rene opens the door, drops the bags just inside, and waits for Carrie-Anne to join her. Once Carrie-Anne's in, Rene keys in her security code at the panel to the left. "There. Now. Follow me."

Rene's house is a split-level, and she leads Carrie-Anne up the short flight of stairs, around the corner, and into the master bedroom. "This is my room," she explains, heading straight through the bedroom and into the bathroom, "and my bathroom, thank God." The bathtub is enormous; it's sunken into the floor, jetted, and there's enough room for four people in it, easily. "Run a bath; make sure the water temperature is comfortable. Pick out some salts if you like," she says, gesturing at a shelf with a variety of bath salts, oils, and bubbles.

She heads into the closet and comes out wearing a terrycloth robe, perching on a counter and waiting to see what Carrie-Anne does with her instructions.

Almost numbly, Carrie-Anne follows Rene into the house. After the cold, sleek modern lines of her former flat and the impressive, antique filled elegance of Liam's house, Rene's place is oddly comfortable.

The bathroom is truly luxurious; this is obviously a woman who enjoys her comforts, and Carrie-Anne worries that she's not going to get the temperature right or choose the right scent. She's served women before, over weekends when Liam had guests or loaned her out, but it's been a little while.

Figuring that no matter what she does will be wrong, she runs the water and adds a handful of lavender scented bath salts. After looking quickly around to note the placement of the towels, she kneels by the side of the tub. "Your bath is ready, Rene."

Rene kneels in front of Carrie-Anne and cups her right cheek in the palm of her left hand. "Your bath," Rene corrects quietly. "Get undressed. It's been a long day, and you've done very, very well, girl." She leans over and brushes her lips over Carrie-Anne's forehead.

Carrie-Anne knows she's staring, but she can't help it. "I...uh...yes, Rene," she stammers, slipping into the bath. She's too tense to truly relax, although the warm water feels like heaven, and so she sits in the middle of the large bathtub, huddled in on herself.

Rene smiles gently. "I'd rather have you closer to me so I can wash you." She goes to a linen closet for a cotton washcloth and then picks out a clear bath gel that has a light, clean scent, just a hint of vanilla, along with a small bottle of shampoo. "I want you to try to relax. I know you're a long way from everything you used to know, but now you're home." There's a light emphasis on the word _home_ ; Rene dips the washcloth into the water and pours a bit of bath gel into it, working up a lather.

"But...I. Oh, please, Rene, this isn't right," Carrie-Anne protests. She's sure that this situation will turn on her somehow, and she wants to make it perfectly clear that she knows her place.

Completely ignoring Carrie-Anne's protest, Rene reaches into the tub and lifts one of Carrie-Anne's arms up, rubbing it gently with the washcloth, almost caressing. "Why not?" she asks.

"Because I'm your girl. I'm supposed to do this for you, Rene."

"You _are_ doing this for me," Rene murmurs. She presses a kiss to the slick skin on Carrie-Anne's shoulder and smiles. "You're sitting in my bathtub, and relaxing for me, and enjoying yourself for me. I want you to get used to taking pleasure for me."

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne murmurs. Relaxing is out of the question, but so is disobeying an order from the woman who owns her. Suddenly convinced that this is some sort of subtle head game, Carrie-Anne sighs and gives up. If she's going to get punished for it, she might as well get a nice bath out of it. Feeling oddly comforted by this familiar way of thinking -- the need to enjoy everything good because you never know when the punishment will come -- she relaxes a little and leans back so that Rene can reach her easily.

She also pays careful attention to what Rene does, figuring that the woman will probably give her some clues as to what she herself likes. For the first time, as she thinks about moving a cloth over Rene's sleek, wet curves, she gets a little tingle in her stomach at the idea of serving her new owner.

It feels horribly disloyal and she once more blinks back tears.

This is going to be more difficult than Rene expected. She was ready for the challenge; she was ready to see just how low Liam had brought Carrie-Anne. She presses a kiss to the top of Carrie-Anne's head, and then twists her fingers into Carrie-Anne's hair. A slow, steady tug, a pull that's going to sting, and she draws Carrie-Anne's head back, carefully guiding it down into the bathwater. She stops long before the water reaches Carrie-Anne's eyes, just getting her hair wet, not looking to pull her under. _We'll try this, then,_ Rene thinks, _and see if a little pain might not help you feel more at home. For now._

Accustomed to letting her Master know how much she's being hurt and how much she enjoys it, Carrie-Anne moans softly at the feel of Rene's hand in her hair. _Yes, this is familiar. This is what I'm good for. What I'm here for._ "This girl thanks you, Rene."

Perfect. Rene is not gentle as she gets Carrie-Anne's hair wet and lathers it; she's very careful not to get soap in her eyes, but she doesn't try not to pull, not to tug. It's important to balance the desire to be careful with the desire to show Carrie-Anne Rene won't treat her as though she's made of glass. Rene rinses out the shampoo and glides soapy hands down the slick skin of Carrie-Anne's arms. "Good girl," she whispers. "Pretty girl."

More than anything on this horrible, confusing day, Rene's roughness soothes Carrie-Anne. The hair pulling is good, and the implications to be read in it are even better. And when Rene calls her pretty, Carrie-Anne shivers and tentatively smiles at the other woman.

"This girl is happy to have pleased you, Rene."

"Hmm." Rene smiles and finishes with Carrie-Anne's bath, scrubbing a bit more roughly and thinking about what kinds of textures might appeal to her new girl. In the morning she'll start looking around the bathroom and pondering different things to try; for the moment, she makes her strokes a little rougher, not letting up until Carrie-Anne is pink and clean and smells of vanilla. Rene lowers her mouth to Carrie-Anne's shoulder and bites down, hard enough to be felt.

Carrie-Anne is careful to show her appreciation for the rough handling, sighing and whimpering whenever Rene hits a sensitive spot. And then when Rene bites down on her shoulder, she gasps and then moans loudly. It's good, being hurt like this. Pain makes everything simple, lets her block all the awful things in her life.

And it's also a promise. Rene's not Liam, but if she's prone to biting like this, then maybe she'll be good at hurting in other ways. Carrie-Anne tries not to hope for too much, though; her past has shown her how dangerous hope can be.

"More?" Rene asks quietly.

Blinking, Carrie-Anne stares at Rene for a minute. _Is she seriously asking for my opinion or is this just a tease like Master does?_

"If it pleases you, Rene."

"It would please me," Rene agrees. "It would please me more if you'd climb out of the tub. Dry off and get in the bed. Lie down however you're comfortable."

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies as she gets out of the tub. She dries off quickly and then lies down on her stomach on the bed. She's nervous and worried, wondering when she's going to make her first mistake, but she's also more than a little aroused.

 _It's not wrong to be excited. She's my owner now and I should be turned on by the things she does to me. Really, it's not wrong._

Rene takes a few moments to herself in the bathroom. She tells herself not to waste her time damning Liam for putting his girl through so much. _There are Masters who are careless with their girls and careful with their boys...and Masters who are careless with their boys and careful with their girls,_ she reminds herself. _And then there's me._

She heads back out to the bedroom, curious to see how Carrie-Anne's positioned herself. On her stomach. All right, then. Rene goes to one of the dressers and draws out a set of three black discs -- one with fur, one with studs, one with spikes. She drops them on the foot of the bed and slips out of her robe, letting it fall to the floor, and then she kneels at Carrie-Anne's side, reaching for one of the discs, fitting it over her hand.

"What do you like?" Rene asks, tone conversational. She flexes her hand a bit. Fur first. She draws the flat of her hand across Carrie-Anne's back, caressing her with the soft fur, almost tickling.

"What do I..." Carrie-Anne blurts out. It's a breach of protocol that no one with her experience should make, but she hasn't been asked what she likes in years. She tenses, waiting for the punishment.

"I told you: no restrictions on your language, other than that you call me Rene and you do _not_ refer to Liam as your Master. It's all right. Now, enough with the hesitation, girl." Rene's voice hardens, just a bit. "Tell me one thing you like."

"Yes, Rene. This girl apologizes for her hesitation, Rene." Carrie-Anne quickly tries to come up with something she likes, wondering how specific Rene wants her to be. "This girl like breast torture, Rene."

Carrie-Anne quickly realizes that that was the wrong thing to say as she remembers the first time Liam tied her up, back before there was a contract or any of the rest of it. He slapped her breasts with those big hands, starting slowly and building it up until she came just from that alone. It had been the first time anyone had ever understood her need for pain.

Burying her face in the pillow, Carrie-Anne hopes she won't cry again.

The reaction shouldn't startle Rene nearly as much as it does. It makes sense, the idea that this girl should be just as tormented by good memories as by bad ones. Maybe more. Rene switches from the fur disc to the disc with the studs and draws it down Carrie-Anne's back in a firm line. No more teasing. Every stud should be palpable on Carrie-Anne's skin.

"When this girl pleases me enough," Rene promises, "her Mistress will remember that."

Shivering at the feeling of the studs on her back, Carrie-Anne nods. "This girl will do her best to please, Rene."

"Does this girl want to hurt for her Mistress?" Rene asks, drawing the studs down to the curve of Carrie-Anne's ass. It's lovely; Rene can already imagine how it would look with color on it. With bruises on it. She bends down and bites, very gently, at the skin over Carrie-Anne's hip.

"Please, Rene," Carrie-Anne whimpers. "This girl begs to hurt for you." It's the only correct answer to give, and yet Carrie-Anne is startled to realize that she's sincere here.

 _Maybe if she hurts me enough, I can forget._

The blows start slowly but firmly, each one landing on Carrie-Anne's ass as if Rene wants to memorize everything about it -- the tug of the elastic strap as her hand flexes, the impact of leather and studs against Carrie-Anne's skin, the way Carrie-Anne's breathing changes, very slightly. Rene doesn't pick up the pace until she's managed ten hard slaps, and then she begins covering Carrie-Anne's skin, an inch at a time.

As each blow lands, Carrie-Anne relaxes just a little more. Rene's good; the blows are painful but not excruciating. Carrie-Anne can take more, but for now this is nice, comforting, familiar.

"Thank you, Rene," she groans as the spanking gets more intense. She spreads her legs a little wider, arches her back just a little more as a way of indicating that she can take more if Rene wants to give more.

And Rene's curious; she'd like to see more. But now doesn't seem like the time to start testing limits. It's still early; Carrie-Anne is still getting used to being here. And Carrie-Anne hasn't quite earned the kind of beating Rene could give out right now.

Rene comes down again and licks over one particularly nicely reddened spot. She bites down, slowly, firmly, quite hard, but not hard enough to break skin. She comes back up and slaps Carrie-Anne's ass with the flat of her hand. "Good girl," she says. "There's a trundle bed below here. Pull it out. It's where you'll be sleeping tonight."

Moaning through the bite, Carrie-Anne manages to stammer out her thanks. "Thank...thank you, Rene, for marking this girl."

It's politeness only. She doesn't want Rene's marks on her, in fact she's bitter about the fact that her Master didn't mark her earlier today...yesterday...whenever it was when she left his house for the last time.

She quickly moves off the bed and pulls the trundle out. It's nicer than the floor, which was where she slept on those on those occasions when her Master spent the night with her. Not that it matters really; she's a slave and slaves sleep where they're put. She kneels next to the small bed, knowing better than to actually get into it without permission.

"Get in bed," Rene says. She takes her leather discs back to her dresser and puts them away while Carrie-Anne climbs into the trundle, and then she goes back to the bed, turning off the lights as she goes. When the room's in total blackness, she slides under her covers, stretching out on her stomach.

"Girl?" Rene whispers. "I don't approve of insincerity. I'd rather know you hate me, and hate being here, than have you lie to me."

And with that, Rene sinks into the bed, already near sleep.

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies softly. She doesn't really hate Rene; in an odd way, her years with Liam have taught her that hatred and love are far too close, and she doesn't know Rene enough to feel any strong emotion towards her, unless it's curiosity.

And there's so much to be curious about. _Why did Rene want me? Why did Pierce broker the deal? Why did Rene let Pierce hurt her like that? What all will Rene want of me besides domestic service? Is she a sadist or a dominant or both?_ And the most important questions of all. _What really happened? Why did Master get rid of me?_

Fatigue and fear and travel all take their toll, and even as Carrie-Anne begins to cry in perfect silence, she feels her body finally giving up. She drifts into sleep with tears drying on her cheeks.


	4. Familiarization

Completely and utterly disoriented, it takes Carrie-Anne several moments after she wakes up to realize where she is. _Rene's house. Rene Russo. She bought my contract from Master when Jason made Master get rid of me. Bastard._ She sits up and blinks before quietly making her way into the bathroom.

It's only after she's washed her hands and splashed cool water on her face that she remembers that she had morning duties here. _Just like Master's boys._ Carrie-Anne knows she needs to stop thinking of Liam as "Master", but the small stubborn part of her that's gotten her through the last three and a half years refuses to let go. _I'm fine as long as I don't say it aloud,_ she thinks as she heads into the bedroom and glances at the clock.

 _Quarter to eight? Shit! Breakfast needs to be on the table by eight!_ Without bothering to comb her hair, she rushes out of the bedroom, quickly finding the kitchen.

There's fruit in the refrigerator, and some plain yogurt. Carrie-Anne pulls it all out while looking around the kitchen for a coffee maker. Oddly enough the ultra-modern stainless coffee maker on the counter is the same as the one in her old loft and so she is able to start it right away.

While the coffee is brewing, she quickly slices up a couple of peaches and some strawberries and searches the cupboards for honey and vanilla. By the time eight rolls around she has a dish of yogurt and fruit set out, the coffee is ready to be poured, the hazelnut creamer and the sugar bowl are on the table and there's an English muffin in the toaster waiting to be toasted. _Butter,_ she thinks glancing at the clock nervously. _And marmalade._ But there is no marmalade in the fridge and for a moment she panics before remembering that marmalade with cold toast is a thing of the past.

Trying to calm down, she glances at the clock again -- 8:03 -- and kneels by the table, wondering if she should wake Rene up or just wait for her. _Five minutes or so. If she's not here by, say, 8:10, I'll wake her up carefully._

Rene yawns so hard her jaw pops when she wakes up. She stretches languidly and rolls onto her stomach, blinking bleary eyes open to squint at the clock. 8:06. Oh, _far_ too early to be awake yet. She yawns again and burrows into the covers a little further, sinking back into sleep.

It occurs to her as she drifts off again that there's no sound of breathing coming from the trundle. There's a momentary twist of fear laced with anger in her gut, and she hears Pierce mocking her all over again -- _She might bolt on you_ \-- but it's not enough to keep her awake, not after a weekend of travel, Pierce's stripes, and having a new girl to settle into her home.

It's 8:10 now and Carrie-Anne looks nervously at the clock and at the breakfast and at the door to the kitchen. _What do I do when every option could be disastrous?_

But she's a slave and well accustomed to scenarios where any move is the wrong one and so she takes a deep breath and walks down the hall to Rene's bedroom door. Once there, she drops to her knees and crawls into the bedroom, listening to the even breathing of her new owner.

 _I know where her purse is. She had a fair amount of money in her wallet. I could just go. Call a cab, get a hotel room and demand my life back._

Sighing softly, she kneels up by the bed and touches Rene very gently on the shoulder, speaking softly. "Breakfast is ready Rene."

In four minutes, Rene didn't manage to get back to sleep, although she was getting close. She frowns hard when she hears Carrie-Anne next to her. _Doesn't she know I'm trying to sleep here...?_

But the words penetrate, and Rene turns to Carrie-Anne in mild surprise. "Breakfast?" she asks. Her voice is hoarse from sleep, so she clears her throat. Her expression steadies as she considers her next words carefully. "You're late."

"This girl apologizes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, backing away a little and lowering her forehead to the floor. The fact that breakfast has been on the table since 8:00 doesn't mean anything here and in a way it's a little comforting to know that Rene's as quick to find fault as Carrie-Anne's master was.

"Stay there. Like that. Until I come back for you."

Rene sighs as she slides out of bed. She heads for the bathroom and takes care of the essentials -- washing her face, brushing her teeth -- and then slips on a robe, a huge fluffy white terrycloth robe that nearly swallows her whole.

Carrie-Anne looks beautiful at the side of her bed. Beautiful and broken. Rene kneels down behind her and runs soft tickling fingers up the center of her spine, up her neck, and then twines her fingers into Carrie-Anne's hair and _tugs,_ pulling her head off the floor.

For Carrie-Anne, obeisance is a little like the lotus position is for a lot of people. She can stay -- has stayed -- like this for hours. It's her place, she reminds herself. This is her place. She's therefore a little surprised that Rene only leaves her there for a short time.

Gasping a little in surprise, Carrie-Anne moves with Rene -- not that she has a choice with Rene's hand in her hair -- until she's kneeling and half-leaning against Rene. The hand in her hair feels good and Rene, soft yet strong, feels even better.

"My girl," Rene murmurs. Her free hand comes up, the backs of her fingers resting for a moment against Carrie-Anne's cheek before she slides them down, turning her hand so she can ghost a possessive touch over Carrie-Anne's throat. Her hand keeps moving down, fingernails scratching hard down the center of Carrie-Anne's chest, and she gives a rough pinch to Carrie-Anne's nipple before her hand goes soft again and she slides it down the curve of Carrie-Anne's lower belly, then nestles it in the soft curls between Carrie-Anne's legs. No further; not yet. Rene's breath is warm against Carrie-Anne's ear. "You'll get used to it given time," she murmurs.

The combination of rough and delicate is devastating and by the time Rene's hand moves between her legs, Carrie-Anne is panting softly. The touch on her throat is particularly maddening and she wonders if Rene collars her girls all the time. _Master only cared to have me collared in public; he never bothered in private and I'd so like a collar._ Once more she feels guilty and disloyal and so her response to Rene is perhaps a little more fervent in tone than is really called for.

"This girl very much hopes so, Rene."

"Hope is not the domain of a slave, girl," Rene says quietly. "You'll take what you're given, and in time you'll learn to love it. You've done that before." She slides her fingers lower, then, parting Carrie-Anne's folds with her fingertips and stroking gently. The tug in Carrie-Anne's hair becomes sharp, cruel nearly to the point of being vicious. "This time it's different."

 _Stop now. She's not ready to hear that._

Rene almost snarls at the warning voice in her head, but she does stop speaking. She bends her head and bites down on Carrie-Anne's neck, a steady press of teeth that grows sharper with every passing second.

"This girl apologizes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies quickly. _I won't love it; I've done that once already and look where it got me._ The bitter thought is not the domain of a slave either and Carrie-Anne tries to force herself back into the patiently submissive space she's occupied for several years now.

Rene's teeth help. They help a great deal, Carrie-Anne realizes as she begins to moan, trying hard not to thrust her hips up against Rene's touch. _The domain of a slave is to hurt for her Mas...her owner. My place is to give her my pain and my service._

And oh, the moan is beautiful coming over Carrie-Anne's lips. Rene takes her teeth away and gives Carrie-Anne's head a rough little shake. "That's my girl," she whispers. "Make noise for me." Her fingers press down hard against Carrie-Anne's clit, and then slide back, middle two fingers sliding inside her.

"Yes...yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne says, her voice shaky. It's easy to whimper and moan now -- "noise" isn't words and so she doesn't beg -- and she lets herself go, hoping that Rene is pleased with her.

"My girl's been bad this morning." Rene gives Carrie-Anne's neck another sharp nip, and her fingers start up a gliding, smooth rhythm, moving in and out slowly, the heel of her hand pressing against Carrie-Anne's clit as she goes. "She needs to make up for it."

"Your girl offers herself up for punishment, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, struggling to keep from stammering.

"All right," Rene agrees quietly. One more sharp bite at Carrie-Anne's neck, because she can't help herself -- the taste of lingering uncertainty on Carrie-Anne's skin is just too pleasant for words -- and she slides her hand out from between Carrie-Anne's legs, stopping the tug on Carrie-Anne's hair at the same time. "If my girl had been good for me, I'd have made her come." Her voice is a whisper at Carrie-Anne's ear now. "I wouldn't have given her permission to come, but I would have made her come anyway."

Her mind a whirl from trying to figure out how to answer that rather terrifying statement, Carrie-Anne takes refuge in the familiarity of formal speech and decorum.

"This girl thanks Rene for her punishment," she says, her voice carefully neutral.

"You're goddamned right you will," Rene growls. She untwists her fingers from Carrie-Anne's hair, finally, and cups her hand around Carrie-Anne's throat. "Here's what you're going to do for me. You're going to take a shower, a fast one in cold water. And then I'm putting you in a gag while I take breakfast; you don't get to eat and you don't get to speak. If you behave, I'll feed you when I'm done."

Swallowing hard, Carrie-Anne hopes the little squeak she makes in her throat isn't audible. Punishment from her Master usually involved orgasm denial and/or a beating that went beyond pleasure and into real pain. Realizing that her new owner is somewhat subtly cruel is possibly most frightening thing that's happened to her since leaving her Master's house.

Nervously she waits to be dismissed.

Audible, no, but Rene's hand is still around Carrie-Anne's throat, and she _feels_ the sound more than hears it. There's something about that tremor that makes her warm all over, and she wants to feel that, hear that, again.

She presses her lips to Carrie-Anne's ear. "Go now, girl," she murmurs, and she lets Carrie-Anne go all at once.

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, moving to her hands and knees as gracefully as possible when Rene lets go of her. She crawls into the bathroom and, wincing a little starts up the shower. It's agony of course, and she doesn't know if it's that she's being punished or the fact that the cold water has made her nipples so hard they hurt, but she's still aroused as she quickly dries herself off.

Glancing at the clock as she crawls back into the bedroom, Carrie-Anne hopes that a five minute shower constitutes quick. She kneels up properly in front of Rene, keeping her eyes lowered while she tilts her head up for the bit gag Rene holds.

Rene sets the hard leather between Carrie-Anne's teeth and lifts her hair out of the way so it doesn't get caught under either of the rings attached to the leather. She buckles the gage securely, and gives Carrie-Anne a critical look, running a finger down her cheek.

"You're very pretty, girl," she says quietly, very matter-of-factly. "I want you on your hands and knees when you follow me to the kitchen."

Bowing her head both in gratitude for the compliment and in acknowledgment of the order, Carrie-Anne kneels back. When Rene heads for the kitchen, Carrie-Anne crawls after her, fighting the ache in her heart. Crawling and a gag...oh yes, this is familiar, but not as punishment. _Just because Master liked to see me like that._

Rene is impressed by the breakfast Carrie-Anne's managed to lay out, despite the lack of time to prepare and the fact that the house isn't really stocked well right now. Everything's been out a bit longer than Rene would like, but that can't be helped; it was her choice to spend time tormenting her girl first, and so it's not something she'll punish Carrie-Anne for.

The punishment now is more subtle than a cold shower or a bit gag, though; it's Rene's silence. She drinks her coffee, eats her fruit dipped in yogurt, and doesn't so much as look at her new girl.

Quite used to being ignored for long periods of time, Carrie-Anne keeps her head lowered enough for respect while peering around the kitchen, familiarizing herself with it and with what its contents say about its -- and her -- owner.

Aside from the coffee pot, nothing is stainless; all the appliances are white. It's brighter than her Master's kitchen too, more sunlight pours in through the big windows, which somehow makes it feel cozier.

 _This is my home, now._ The thought is painfully sudden, as are the tears that well up immediately after she thinks it. As accustomed to crying quietly as she is to kneeling gagged for long periods of time, Carrie-Anne makes no noise.

Rene notices, but doesn't say anything. There's so _much_ to this girl -- so much anger, so much fear, so much grief. It's a precarious balance, and right now the answer is to let her grieve in peace.

Eventually the tears slow and start to dry on Carrie-Anne's cheeks. This is all too familiar as well, and she retreats to the place in her mind where she can remember music or snatches of poetry and still be focused enough to pay attention.

Rene waits until Carrie-Anne has her composure back, and then turns to her. "Better," she says. "I think you could learn to be good for me. Are you hungry, girl?"

Carrie-Anne's a little stung by Rene's condescending attitude -- after all Carrie-Anne was good enough for her Master to keep her for over three years -- but she hides it perfectly, merely nodding her head in response to Rene's question.

Rene unbuckles the bit gag and slides it out of Carrie-Anne's mouth. "Come up on my lap," she says, sliding her chair away from the table enough to make that possible.

Working her jaw carefully Carrie-Anne moves up a little and then pauses. "Do you want this girl facing you or the table, Rene?"

"Some of each," Rene says wryly. "On my lap, sideways," she clarifies.

Working to keep her movements smooth and graceful, Carrie-Anne moves into Rene's lap. It's strange being on a woman's lap again; Rene's not as soft as Jessica was -- _She's harder and more lean._ It's stranger still not to be utterly dwarfed by someone; as she settles down, Carrie-Anne comes to the startling realization that an actual physical fight between herself and Rene would be quite close.

Rene is coming to similar conclusions as she wraps her arms around Carrie-Anne's waist. It's been a long time since she's had a girl on her lap who was so evenly matched to her, and it's a very, very pleasant feeling. Carrie-Anne is lean strength, sharp lines and fluid grace, and she doesn't seem to be at all relaxed in her new owner's lap. Rene tilts her head up -- very slowly, rubbing her cheek against the smooth skin of Carrie-Anne's upper arm as she goes -- and presses a hard bite to the point of Carrie-Anne's shoulder.

 _God, I like the way she bites._ Carrie-Anne tucks the thought away as she whimpers a little. It doesn't matter if she likes it or not, although as always, that's hard to remember when someone's hurting you in a good way like this.

"I like that," Rene says softly. "I like all the little sounds you try so hard not to make for me." She straightens a little and reaches out for a slice of peach. She dips it in the yogurt and offers it to Carrie-Anne.

Unlike her Master's boys, Carrie-Anne received some formal training during her time with him. And so her neck is arched just so and her mouth open but not greedy for whatever is being put into it. No teeth graze Rene and Carrie-Anne's tongue can only be described as respectful as she carefully cleans Rene's fingers. "This girl thanks Rene," she says softly.

 _Oh._ Rene has to hold her breath at the sight of that. She knew Carrie-Anne was Liam's showpiece, and probably could have guessed that she'd had formal training just from the ease with which she flows from position to position, but now it's certain. Rene trails her fingertips over Carrie-Anne's face, and then slides her hand down to Carrie-Anne's chest, where she rubs a thumb over her nipple for a moment before pinching down hard. Her eyes are steady on Carrie-Anne's, and her other arm tightens, making sure she doesn't go anywhere.

"Ohhhhh," Carrie-Anne sighs. Rene keeps hurting her and it's so very different and so very good. Once more she struggles to battle down the guilt as she lowers her eyes and does her best not to squirm.

"My girl's going to need to make a decision," Rene says. She leans in and presses a kiss to Carrie-Anne's neck, then licks a path gently across her collarbone. The pinch at Carrie-Anne's nipple eases, but it's only so Rene can get a better grip and _twist._ "Are you hungry, girl?" Another bite, a soft one against the skin at the top of Carrie-Anne's breast. "Or do you want to hurt for me?"

Decisions have been the bane of Carrie-Anne's life ever since she decided to sign her first contract with Liam. She somehow knows that Rene won't accept "whatever Rene wishes" and so she decides that if she's going to make a decision, why not be greedy?

"This girl offers Rene her pain," she says, making sure her enthusiasm colors her voice.

Rene smiles. "Beautiful greedy girl," she says. She leans across Carrie-Anne to shove dishes aside; some of them go crashing to the floor. "Up on the table," Rene murmurs. "On your back."

Doing her best not to flinch, Carrie-Anne quickly gets up on the table. Rene's move was one of expediency not anger, she tells herself. Still, as she arranges herself on the table, legs slightly spread, arms relaxed at her sides, her heart is racing for more reasons than arousal.

"My girl," Rene says. She looks down at Carrie-Anne's body, lying across her kitchen table, willing, wanting, and oh, yes, that's very good. That's very, very good.

She takes a step back, pushing the chair away from the table, and she slides out of her robe, tossing it across the seat of the chair without looking. The terrycloth is starting to feel as if it's getting in her way, and she wants to feel the warmth of Carrie-Anne's skin against hers now.

She comes up to the edge of the table, planting her hips between Carrie-Anne's legs. Her nails are sharp, and she digs them into Carrie-Anne's skin at her sides, just above her navel, and scratches down hard until her nails are at Carrie-Anne's hips, and they're forming beautiful, perfect crescents. Carrie-Anne's going to mark from this, and Rene's eyes say she knows exactly how much it hurts, and exactly how much her girl wants it.

When Rene gets rid of the robe, Carrie-Anne feels a little wistful. _If Master had just loaned her to me, I'd have been overjoyed; she's cruel and beautiful and obviously knows what she's doing._

But what Rene is doing is making Carrie-Anne feel owned again and Carrie-Anne fights it. Everything between them up until now has been hurried, but now she has Rene's full attention and Rene obviously intends to claim her. Of course, it's wrong of her to fight it, but Carrie-Anne can't help it. She just hopes she can get through this without Rene guessing that she's done her best to separate her body from her emotions.

 _Oh fuck, but that's good,_ she thinks as Rene brings her nails into play. Remembering that Rene wants to hear her, she lets out a soft cry and closes her eyes, sinking into the pain.

Rene can't help noticing the way Carrie-Anne closes her eyes. There's going to be a time when she orders her girl to keep her eyes open, and by God if she's pretending she's somewhere else there'll be hell to pay, but right now Rene understands the need for separation. The pain's an offering to her girl, something that she's giving Carrie-Anne to prove her own commitment and understanding.

 _We're going to get through this together,_ she thinks. She bends over the table, nails still digging in hard, and presses a soft kiss just below Carrie-Anne's navel. Her mouth traces a warm, slow path up the center of Carrie-Anne's body, and she breathes out softly when her lips meet the center of Carrie-Anne's chest.

It's the tenderness that does it; Carrie-Anne can feel the lump growing in her throat. _Please...please don't be kind; it'll hurt so much more when you turn mean._ There's a world of difference between cruel and mean, but over the last few years, Carrie-Anne's given up hope of ever finding anyone who's cruel.

 _I don't want to cry...oh God, I don't want to give her tears until she wrenches them from me with pain._

There's a small hitch in Carrie-Anne's breath, and it's not from arousal. Rene slides her hands up the sides of Carrie-Anne's body and pins her arms to the table, nails biting into the skin of her forearms.

 _We'll do it this way, then. For now._

The rough glide of her tongue is harsher now, faster, and she goes cruel all at once, teeth sinking into Carrie-Anne's breast just to the left of her breastbone, where the skin isn't thin anymore and can take quite a bit of punishment.

 _Oh yes...so much better this way,_ Carrie-Anne thinks. This way when the tears come she can blame the pain and not the aching sense of loss in her heart because this is the wrong kitchen table and the wrong person's hands and teeth. _What's even worse is how much I like it._

She's breathing harshly now and yet still manages to get words out. "This girl...thanks Rene for the pain."

Rene comes up, sliding one hand into Carrie-Anne's hair and fisting hard, the pull strong enough to make Carrie-Anne's eyes sting. Her eyes meet Carrie-Anne's for a long moment, and the expression on her face is not angry, but not neutral, either. Rene _wants_ this, and isn't hiding it. "I like the way you hurt for me," she whispers, and she bends her head down to lick at the skin just under Carrie-Anne's collarbone, tiny little cat licks that take her from the center of Carrie-Anne's chest to the point of her shoulder, where she bites down again.

Giving a low cry when Rene pulls her hair, Carrie-Anne tries to meet Rene's eyes. Rene looks hungry and suddenly Carrie-Anne remembers how much she wished someone would look at her with that much hunger.

"This...this girl," she stammers, "is happy to have pleased...ohhh!" Rene's teeth again, and Carrie-Anne doesn't know if it's the sharp pain or the intimacy of Rene's teeth but she's suddenly there in the moment and wanting more.

"That's my girl," Rene says, grinning with a combination of approval and desire. Her breath is coming much faster now, and her free hand cups Carrie-Anne's breast, thumb rubbing in small circles over her nipple, a move that seems more threatening than teasing. Rene's teeth make small, shallow bites over every inch of Carrie-Anne's skin from shoulder to throat. Every one of them stings for a fraction of a second before the pain lifts and makes its way inward, and then Rene's lips are over the center of Carrie-Anne's throat and her breath is coming out hot against Carrie-Anne's skin.

 _Finesse,_ Carrie-Anne thinks. _Rene has finesse._ That realization will be troubling when she can actually concentrate on it but right now all she can do is anticipate each next bite. They're maddening; just enough pain to intrigue her, to tease her. When Rene stops and goes still, Carrie-Anne shudders all over, more at the loss of the stinging bites than in fear of what Rene will do next.

"Please," she moans, not quite sure what she's begging for.

" _Yes,_ " Rene whispers. She arches up and gets her eyes on Carrie-Anne's, hovering over her. Her forefinger and thumb pinch down hard on Carrie-Anne's nipple, and she starts twisting, slowly. "Again," she murmurs. "I want you to ask for this."

"Oh God, yes," Carrie-Anne moans. "This girl begs you to hurt her, Rene. Please?" She draws in a deep breath in anticipation of the pain even as she feels the curl of shame in her belly from begging for it.

"Good girl," Rene whispers. Both her hands loosen their grip just a touch, and then Rene bends down, her nose brushing against Carrie-Anne's as her lips find their mark. It's not quite a kiss; it's the brush of lips against lips as she speaks.

"You're mine," Rene says. " _Mine,_ girl." And this time the twist is rough and merciless, and the fingers twined in Carrie-Anne's hair are vicious.

The correct response is to agree or even to say "yours" in reply. And Carrie-Anne can't do it. Luckily the pain is startling enough that she shrieks, her fingers clawing futilely at the slick surface of the table as she only barely manages to keep from twisting away.

 _I'm sorry,_ she thinks as she looks up at Rene through tear-filled eyes, _I can't say it yet._

Rene's eyes close, and she reminds herself to be patient. _There's time_ , she thinks. _We have time._

She lets her fingers untwist from Carrie-Anne's hair, and slides her hand down Carrie-Anne's side, moaning very softly against Carrie-Anne's lips as she feels the curve of Carrie-Anne's body from shoulder to hip. She can feel strength and tension under her hands, and it's beautiful.

Drawing herself away from Carrie-Anne's lips is difficult. She wants a kiss, wants to force a kiss on Carrie-Anne now, while she's struggling with the idea of her new life, and it isn't time yet. But she makes herself wait, and she leaves small, fleeting kisses across Carrie-Anne's cheek, down over her shoulder, and finally breathes warm air against the nipple she's been twisting, her other hand going down Carrie-Anne's side to get her pinned down at the hips.

 _If I'd said I was hers would she have kissed me?_ Carrie Anne wonders. She thinks of apologizing but can't quite bring herself to do it, knowing that it would require an explanation she doesn't want to give. She sighs a little when Rene moves away, however, and as Rene reaches her breast, Carrie-Anne arches subtly, offering herself to the other woman.

Rene traces a circle around Carrie-Anne's nipple with the tip of her tongue, and she whispers, "Ask me for it." Her teeth scrape lightly across Carrie-Anne's nipple, then settle, ready to bite and giving just a hint of pressure, a promise.

"Please, Rene," Carrie-Anne begs eagerly. "Please hurt this girl...oh please." If it weren't such a horrible breach of all she's been taught, Carrie-Anne would reach up right now, grab Rene's hair and drag her into place. As it is she arches again, presenting herself to Rene.

Rene's teeth come down, slowly, and the bite grows more intense moment by moment. She pulls back slightly, tugging at Carrie-Anne's nipple, and then lets go, licking softly with the flat of her tongue.

"Show me," she whispers. "How bad do you want it?"

 _Show her?_ Carrie-Anne bites her lip and looks up at Rene a little confused. "This girl is very sorry Rene, but she doesn't know what you want." She can't help flinching as she speaks, expecting a deserved slap or punishment of some kind.

Rene arches up and grabs Carrie-Anne's wrist in her hand. "Get your hands on me," she says. "Touch me while I'm hurting you. I want more than just words; I want to _feel_ how much you want this." She lets go, and her teeth graze the top of Carrie-Anne's breast and begin working their way down again.

For just a second, Carrie-Anne freezes. Hands on means a massage or bathing a broad back with reverence or a handjob. It doesn't mean caresses. But Rene ordered it and so, hesitantly, Carrie-Anne reaches out to stroke Rene's shoulders, her fingers gliding over smooth, fine skin.

"No," Rene corrects softly, although her girl's hands on her feel good, and she understands the hesitance. She looks up from Carrie-Anne's body long enough to get her eyes on Carrie-Anne's, and grins, baring her teeth just a little. "When I want your hands on me, I want enthusiasm. You've got beautiful nails, strong fingers. Use them."

Blinking in shock, Carrie-Anne stares at Rene. "I...yes, Rene," she finally says. "This girl apologizes, Rene." Still skittish, she tightens her grip on Rene's shoulders, and slowly digs her nails in. _Does she actually expect me to mark her?_

Rene's eyes close, and she hisses out a pleased, satisfied little breath. "Good girl," she murmurs. One hand slides between Carrie-Anne's legs, and the nails on her other hand dig into Carrie-Anne's hip. She lowers her head to Carrie-Anne's breast again, teeth scraping lightly over the upper curve of it, leaving soft scratches and warm licks over her skin.

Carrie-Anne may be timid, which is certainly understandable, but she's not stupid and if Rene is going to pay back pain for pain, she'll respond to that sort of conditioning. Sliding her hands, across Rene's upper back, she then scratches, not using all of her strength, but surely Rene will feel this.

 _Oh, God, yes._ Rene's lips move over Carrie-Anne's nipple, and she bites down again, tugging hard this time. Her fingers are rubbing gently against Carrie-Anne's slick folds, and she's teasing now, almost sliding in but not quite. Not just yet.

Whimpering and arching her hips up to wordlessly ask for more, Carrie-Anne scratches Rene's back again. She suddenly remembers the cane marks on Rene's ass, cane marks undoubtedly put there by Pierce. _A Mistress liking pain? Weird, but if that's what she wants..._

"Oh, God," Rene breathes, "oh, God, there's my girl. _Yes._ " And as a reward for the scratches her girl's given her, she slides her fingers inside Carrie-Anne, beginning a fast, gliding rhythm that nearly matches the beat of her heart. Her girl's so beautiful, and Rene leaves a sharp row of bites across her chest before sucking the other nipple into her mouth, running her tongue along the edge of it, not bringing her teeth into play yet.

 _Wow, she really does like that!_ Carrie-Anne has almost forgotten what it's like to scratch someone during sex and yes, it's good, it really is, to have an outlet for the steady desire Rene is building in her.

"Please," she moans, dragging her fingernails across Rene's back again. "Please, Rene..."

Rene shudders; her girl's taking to this better than she'd hoped. She bites down again, harder this time, and God, just knowing her girl wants this...wants _her_...

"My beautiful girl," she whispers. And she's ready to keep going with her licks, her bites, the scratch of her fingernails, the strong glide of her fingers, until Carrie-Anne's begging to come. If it takes cruelty and confusion to put Carrie-Anne where she needs to be, then by God, she'll keep offering it until a place at Rene's feet feels like _home_ to her new girl.

This slow climb is driving Carrie-Anne crazy and she fights to keep from squirming too much, from thrusting her hips up and begging Rene to fuck her as hard as she can. _This isn't about you, lass,_ she reminds herself as she runs her hands down Rene's arms and then drags her nails back up, catching the sensitive insides of Rene's upper arms.

"Thank you...oh God, thank you...Rene," she moans.

 _Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck..._ Rene's breath shudders out of her all at once; Carrie-Anne's fingernails are just perfect, and under the right circumstances she could get damn close with just those beautiful nails scratching her. _If she were just a little more vicious..._

Oh, but this is no time to get distracted, not with her girl squirming under her and making those beautiful soft sounds low in her throat. "Thank you?" Rene asks, tilting her head up to look at Carrie-Anne with slitted eyes. "You don't think we're done here, do you, girl?" And she slides another finger in with the first two, thinking about Liam and his hands, wondering how much Carrie-Anne wants, right here, right now.

 _Oh God...is she going to?_ Carrie-Anne hopes so, Rene has lovely hands, strong and capable, and Carrie-Anne would love to feel one of them inside her. "No, Rene," she gasps, clinging to Rene's arms hard enough to bruise. "This girl wanted...to thank you...anyway...oh God..." And then, manners or no, she's thrusting her hips up, her whole body begging for more.

"More?" Rene asks, but she doesn't need to hear words to know the answer's yes. She slides a fourth finger into Carrie-Anne, gasping lightly at how slick her girl is, how ready for this she seems. "God, you're eager," she whispers. "You are utterly fucking _gorgeous,_ girl, do you know that?"

"Yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne says when Rene asks if she wants more. She tries to steady her breathing some. Rene's hands aren't Master's after all; she should be able to take this just fine, but then Liam never did this without lube.

Then her breathing goes all out of control and she makes that little surprised and scared noise in the back of her throat. "I...if you say so Rene." _Was that the right thing to say? Master would tell me I looked like a whore or a slut and it was meant as a compliment; and he'd tell me the dress suited me when we'd go out. But hardly ever that I was "utterly fucking gorgeous"._

"I'm saying so," Rene growls. Carrie-Anne's managing to take all four fingers; it's tight, but she's got them to the last knuckle. "You're eager, and your body's begging me for it, and you look so good under me." A hard, vicious bite at Carrie-Anne's nipple, and Rene presses forward harder with her hand. Her voice goes quiet as her body demands more from her girl; one thing balancing the other. " _Yes_ , you're utterly fucking gorgeous, not just if I say so. You are."

"Yes...oh God, yes...yes, Rene," Carrie-Anne cries out as she feels herself stretch to take Rene's hand in. It's tight and it hurts, and she pushes up with her hips as she tries to relax. _Just fucking shove now that you're in; I can take it._ Without even remembering that Rene had ordered this, she claws hard at Rene's shoulders.

The nails digging into her shoulders make Rene gasp. _Well, there's initiative for you,_ she thinks, grinning a bit wryly, and she presses in hard, almost holding her breath as she watches her girl take her in.

The sound Carrie-Anne makes is primal, somewhere between a groan and a scream, and for a moment she lies back on the table, panting for a minute. "Tha...thank you Rene," she moans, her hands moving aimlessly over Rene's shoulders. If she were allowed to beg, she realizes, she'd beg for more until she was hoarse.

Rene slides her tongue out over her lips, panting lightly herself. "My beautiful girl," she whispers. And she curls her fingers into a fist, then, and rocks in, just a fraction of an inch at first, eyes focused sharply on Carrie-Anne's face. "Beautiful girl."

Rene's words are keeping Carrie-Anne a little off balance here. It's distracting, feeling like she needs to pay attention to what the woman is saying while she has her hand buried in Carrie-Anne's cunt like that. _Not my place to enjoy this,_ Carrie-Anne reminds herself yet again. That too is distracting.

"Stay here," Rene says sharply. There's something in Carrie-Anne's eyes she can't quite identify, and she doesn't know whether Carrie-Anne is trying to put herself in the past or if she's clinging to lessons she learned there. Either way, it's not what she wants. She rocks her hand in harder, feeling Carrie-Anne's muscles clench around her. "Stay with me. Let yourself want it. Let it go."

"Your...your girl does...want it," Carrie-Anne gasps. "Thank you...wants it so much...please..." She's babbling now but damn, Rene's fist is hard inside her and if she's to be punished, at least she'll have had this first.

"My girl," Rene whispers, and God, watching Carrie-Anne go incoherent for her is one of the most beautiful things she's ever seen. "I want you to come when you can," she breathes.

"Oh God!" Carrie-Anne yells, moving her hips up once more before she's coming hard, her muscles tightening around Rene's wrist, as she once more claws at Rene's back hard. She shudders through the aftershocks, her hands finally falling to the table at her side as she lets go and begins to cry.

"Oh, my girl," Rene whispers. She takes several long moments to breathe, and then slowly eases her hand out of Carrie-Anne, needing to offer her girl more than just the words. She draws the fingertips of her other hand down Carrie-Anne's cheek.

 _Please don't pull away from me._

Still languorous from the strength of the orgasm, and still crying for reasons she's not entirely sure of, Carrie-Anne leans into Rene's hand silently. _I'm so confused..._

Rene cups Carrie-Anne's cheek in her hand, and leans forward to brush her lips over Carrie-Anne's forehead. "It's all right," she whispers. "I'm here with you."

Once more Rene's tenderness feels strange and Carrie-Anne can't help the tears that keep falling. "Why?" she asks, forgetting all the rules that should govern her speech.

Rene feels herself shiver all over. She doesn't know if Carrie-Anne feels the tremor; she doesn't know if her girl would know what it means. This is an answer she doesn't have at the ready, and she does her best to come up with something honest in response.

"Because you're mine," she whispers. "Because you're my girl."

"But Master never..." Even with her confusion and the remnants of jet lag, Carrie-Anne knows she's just made a huge mistake and she goes as still and silent as a small animal under a predator's eye.

The word hits Rene in the center of her chest, and the warm look in her eyes shuts down immediately. She doesn't draw back, but her eyes narrow, and she lets out a long breath.

"Do you remember me telling you what I'd do if you called Liam _Master_?" she asks quietly.

"This girl remembers, Rene," Carrie-Anne says her voice small. She wishes that Rene weren't in her way so that she could slide off the table and make herself small at Rene's feet.

It doesn't matter that less than two days ago Carrie-Anne had had a Master she was with for over three years. It doesn't matter that she's being treated with unexpected tenderness by her new owner. It doesn't matter than she's tired and jet lagged. Rene said not to call him Master and she did. "This girl begs Rene to punish her," she says, tilting her head back in a gesture of surrender.

Rene stands up and runs a hand through her hair. "This girl's Mistress hasn't even had her fucking shower yet," she says. "I'd have liked to take it easy today." She slides fingertips down the center of Carrie-Anne's chest. "But you need to remember who you belong to now. I want you to go to my room and kneel in the center of my bed while I'm taking my shower."

Rene picks up her robe and slides it over her shoulders. She doesn't look back at Carrie-Anne as she leaves the room, and when she gets to the bathroom, she shuts the door behind her.

Carrie-Anne slides off the table with perfect grace, clinging to her training and bearing even though there's no one there to see her. She crawls into Rene's room and positions herself on the bed, kneeling properly, her body still even though tears are rolling silently down her face.

 _I don't know why I'm clinging to him when I hated him so damn much._ She remembers slapping his face and the odd look he gave her that might just have been -- _if you squint and turn you head a little_ \-- respect. _Oh God Master, I miss you._


	5. Punishment

Rene steps out of the shower and towels off briskly. A quick comb through her hair and she's feeling nearly composed again.

It's not that she didn't expect Liam to have such a firm hold on Carrie-Anne. Her loyalty must have been one of the things that kept her together all those years, and one of these days -- when it's directed at her and not the bastard who doesn't own her anymore -- Rene's going to find rewards for it.

But there's a time and a place for nostalgia, and this isn't it. Rene opens the door to the bathroom, letting the steam out and heading for her closet, flicking her gaze over Carrie-Anne as she goes. It doesn't look as though she's moved. She's been crying.

Rene dresses quickly, clothes she can move around in. She looks around the closet for the proper tool for her task, and runs fingertips over two different canes before remembering she promised to take the skin off Carrie-Anne's back _an inch at a time_ , and settles on a truly nasty flogger with rounded tails. The weight of it feels good in her hand; it's a hell of a lot heavier than she'd have started Carrie-Anne with under normal circumstances, but...well, the die's been cast, and Carrie-Anne put up with three years with Liam Neeson. Rene heads back out to the bedroom, setting the flogger on the side of the bed before climbing up and kneeling behind her girl.

One hand rests on Carrie-Anne's shoulder, thumb teasing over the back of her neck; the other one slides down to take hold of Carrie-Anne's wrist. "Tell me what you've been thinking," she whispers.

The fact of the matter is that Carrie-Anne's been trying not to think too much. Waiting for punishment is nothing new to her and she usually does some pattern breathing, bracing herself for the upcoming pain. In spite of the way Rene hurt her earlier, she has a feeling this punishment will be much like those she's accustomed to -- a harsh heavy handed beating that will leave her sleeping on her stomach for several days.

"This girl thought about her error, Rene," she says. And in spite of the attempt not to think, this is the truth, although she's not sure she should tell Rene all of her thoughts. _She didn't ask for details._

"Does my girl understand why I'm about to hurt her?" Rene asks, leaning forward to bite sharply at Carrie-Anne's shoulder.

Having had time to think out the answer to this not unexpected question, Carrie-Anne has a careful, precise answer. "This girl understands that she referred to her former owner as 'master' after being given express orders not to." She opens her mouth to say more and then quickly closes it; if Rene had wanted more, she'd have asked for it.

"Mm-hm," Rene agrees, giving Carrie-Anne another sharp bite. When Carrie-Anne knows her a little better, she'll figure out that these small piercing bites are one of Rene's favorite signs of affection, but for now Rene's glad her girl doesn't know that yet. "I want you to know that it's not at random." Another sharp little bite. "I want you to know I'm not angry." And another, and _God_ but Carrie-Anne's skin feels good under her teeth. "And I want you to know I keep my promises, and that I'll punish you if you make a mistake, even if you've been very good until that point."

"This girl understands that, Rene," Carrie-Anne replies, her voice strangely earnest, "and is very grateful for it." There. She hopes that Rene understands just how grateful Carrie-Anne is, not only to learn that punishment seems to have structure here -- although whether it truly does remains to be seen -- but also for this particular punishment.

"My good girl," Rene purrs. "Now. How many do you think you can take? And I want a number." She nods toward the flogger on the foot of the bed.

"Please, Rene," Carrie-Anne says after a pause she thinks might be a little too long. "This girl isn't sure what you mean by 'take'." She looks at the flogger. "Anything below thirty-five or forty wouldn't be enough to punish. This girl is sorry she can't be more precise, but she doesn't know her new owner's strength yet."

 _I mean she can't be as strong as...Liam was but she looks tough for all that._

"That's fair," Rene admits. "My last girl had a moderate pain tolerance, and couldn't take more than twenty before she was shaking and needed my care the next day. How many do you think it'll take before I have you at that point?" Thirty-five or forty; that's a higher number than Rene expected. Liam didn't go easy on her. Not that Rene would expect Liam to go easy on anyone.

"Liam used to send this girl home on her own after thirty with a cat like that," Carrie-Anne says, proud of the way she says her former master's name without hesitation. "This girl is not trying to brag, Rene," she adds. Taking a great risk, she looks Rene right in the eye. "Please, Rene, give me forty? I'll be honest and tell you if I can take more." Rene had told her to speak any way she felt comfortable with and hopefully speaking normally would convince Rene of Carrie-Anne's sincerity.

"We'll start with forty," Rene agrees. "How are you accustomed to taking pain? Cuffed with your hands above your head, expected to hold yourself steady, against a wall, in the open with your hands cuffed to a hook in the ceiling...?"

The problem with speaking frankly, Carrie-Anne realizes, is that you're always tempted to take it too far. And right now saying "if you'd ever watched...Liam punish anyone, you'd know the answer to all that is yes" wouldn't be a good idea. "Liam taught this girl to take punishment in any position he chose to demand of her," she replies evenly, trying not to betray the way her stomach flutters the more she thinks of the options Rene offered. _Punishment always sounds better than it feels,_ she reminds herself. The reminder does as much good as it always has, which is to say, none.

"I want you in cuffs," Rene decides. "At the foot of the bed. Go ahead and stand at the foot of the bed. Face the bed and keep your arms at your sides for now; I'll get them into position when I have the cuffs attached." She gives Carrie-Anne another bite, this one lingering on her girl's skin, and slides an arm around her waist. "So pretty," she murmurs. " _Mine_. You'll know that in your skin by the time I'm done with you."

Rene slides off the bed and goes to get the cuffs, smiling just a bit. _One step at a time. And at least she didn't slip when she said **Liam** this time._

Feeling a little dwarfed by the size of the big, dark four-poster bed, Carrie-Anne stands at the foot of it. It suddenly occurs to her that she wants to impress Rene, and not just because Rene is her new owner. _I want her to like me_ , she thinks a little miserably. _How pathetic is that? You're a slave, you're not here to be fucking **liked**!_

Rene comes back with cuffs on chains, and links the chains to the small hidden attachment points on the posters. The cuffs buckle down, and she trails her fingernails down Carrie-Anne's arms in a wicked scratching motion once she's been cuffed. Her wrists are just above the level of her head, and there's enough give for her to move a few inches if she needs to. Rene scratches her fingers through Carrie-Anne's hair and lets out a contented, pleased sigh.

"That's very nice," she says. "How much do you like pain, girl?"

"This girl likes it a great deal, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne replies, resisting the urge to nuzzle up against Rene's hand. She can feel her heart speeding up and her body tensing with the familiar combination of need and fear.

 _How strong is her arm? Does she do warm-ups on punishment? Will my suffering please her?_

"Please, Rene, this girl begs to be punished."

 _Will this help me forget him?_

"Good girl," Rene murmurs. "Let's start with five. I don't want you to hold anything back. When I'm hurting you, I want to _hear_ it. If I'm not giving you enough, I want to know that." They really are new to each other, Rene thinks, and she takes up the flogger and stands behind her girl, running light fingertips down her back. _You're going to be so beautiful when you're wearing my marks._

Taking a deep breath, Carrie-Anne tenses up and then deliberately relaxes her back as much as she can. _Breathe and make noise,_ she tells herself. _Rene wants to hear you._

The first five are mostly there as a test, a bit harder than a traditional warm-up but still nowhere near as hard as Rene can deliver. The speed is good, nearly as fast as Rene will be swinging once they're into their rhythm together. _Mine._

 _God I hope she can hit harder than that,_ Carrie-Anne thinks, feeling a little guilty. She moans softly, sounding more content than in pain. "Thank you, Rene," she says after the first five have been laid down.

"Now that doesn't sound at all like a girl taking punishment," Rene grins, coming up behind Carrie-Anne and biting her shoulder quite seriously, leaving marks behind from her teeth. "Let's give you another five and see where that gets us."

And the next five are sharper, much more solid, beginning to show off the strength Rene has in her arm. She doesn't have the raw power Liam must have; Christ, but he's a big man. But she's meticulous in a way she doubts Liam can be, and every stroke is placed exactly where and how she wants it.

"Ohhhh," Carrie-Anne moans. These are much more solid and the flogger is both heavy and strong, so she gets the overall thud as well as the sting of each individual tail. Each blow this time forces noise out of her, although they're still contented noises.

"Thank you, Rene," she says after this group of five. Hesitantly, she adds, "Please, Rene, this girl is enjoying this too much for it to be punishment." _She did say she wanted me to tell her if it needed to be harder. I hope she doesn't get angry._

"Is she?" Rene asks, sounding moderately impressed. "Good girl," she says. "Let's try this. And if you don't think it's punishment enough, then I'll dig out something with steel tips, and you'll bleed for me." And the next five come on as hard as Rene thinks she can manage and still deliver thirty. For once, Rene's not setting Carrie-Anne up to fail one way or the other; if this is good enough to serve as punishment, she'll love the look of her welts across her girl's skin, and if it's not, she'll lap at Carrie-Anne's blood like a cat until her girl's legs give out. It is, she thinks with satisfaction, a win-win scenario.

This time when Carrie-Anne cries out, it's more about pain and less about enjoyment. Oh, it's still hot, being restrained like this while being punished. But it _hurts_ now and twenty-five more like that will have her sleeping on her stomach for a couple of days. "This girl thanks...her owner for the pain," she gasps out. She can't bring herself to use Rene's name now and she knows by the time her punishment is over, she'll be begging to call Rene "Ma'am" at the very least.

"You're damned right you do," Rene growls, grinning again, and then starts up again, stroke after stroke with that same precise power behind it, putting her own marks on Carrie-Anne's skin, wanting to strip away traces of Liam's hold over her. It'll still be a long process, but this feels right, feels like a first step. "You're _mine_ ," she breathes. "My girl."

"Oh God," Carrie-Anne cries out. "Hurts...yes...please..." _Why did I say forty? Why did I try to show off? Oh God, I can't bear this..._ But she can and she will; she's taken much, much more of a beating for much smaller offenses and in spite of -- _because of_ \-- the pain, she knows how wet she is, can feel her body wanting more.

Carrie-Anne is doing beautifully, giving Rene exactly what she asked for: pain, the sound of her voice, and Rene knows her girl can hold out through these strokes, knows she'll still be on her feet by the end of them. _My God, she's strong. Every bit as strong as I thought she'd be._

Carrie-Anne's back feels heavier than the rest of her body, as if it's conspiring with gravity to drag her down. But no, she knows better; this is her owner beating her down. And it would be easy to let go, to sag into the cuffs and let Rene think this was the limit of her strength.

But no. If there was one thing anyone ever admired Carrie-Anne for during her years with Liam it was her ability to take so much from him, so much pain and humiliation and -- _so much abuse, but no it was never that, because I was his slave._

When the last blow of forty lands, tears are rolling down Carrie-Anne's cheeks and she's screamed her way through the last four blows. But she's still on her feet.

"Beautiful," Rene whispers, coming up behind Carrie-Anne to curl a hand around her throat. "You're mine," she hisses, lips at Carrie-Anne's ear. Her body is pressing hard into Carrie-Anne's back, and her free arm locks around her girl's waist, keeping her upright, knowing exactly how much it must hurt to have those welts pressing against Rene's chest. "Say it."

"Yours," Carrie-Anne replies instantly, her voice still strong if a little hoarse. "All yours." She wishes she weren't restrained so she could go to her knees and beg to call Rene Ma'am. The guilt and the feeling of betraying Liam is there, but those feelings are fading and for the first time Carrie-Anne finds herself looking forward to be free of her former master.

Rene's already undoing the first of Carrie-Anne's cuffs, letting her arm down gently before managing the other. She gives the back of Carrie-Anne's neck a soft lick and a rough bite, and then pushes her forward, planting her forearms on the bed. She nudges Carrie-Anne's legs apart with her knee, and slides a hand between her legs, two fingers parting the folds and sliding inside. "All mine," Rene purrs, and her free hand traces the marks on Carrie-Anne's back, fingernails scratching lightly.

"Yes, yours," Carrie-Anne moans, trying hard not to just shove back against Rene's fingers like a slut. "Please -- oh God, please -- this girl begs for one favor even though she knows she doesn't deserve it."

"You let me decide what you deserve," Rene growls, fingers thrusting in harder. She puts her head down and licks across one of the welts, shivering herself; Christ, she's close enough she could come just from watching her girl's reactions. "What's the favor, girl?"

"Please...oh God," Carrie-Anne, clenches her fists, fingernails driving into her palms, in an attempt to keep from moving. "Please...beg for the privilege of calling...you Ma'am...or Mistress...please...your girl begs..."

There's barely enough skin here over Carrie-Anne's shoulders to get purchase on with her teeth; Rene tries anyway, nipping at a red mark before licking over it. "Mistress," she whispers. "I _own_ you, girl. Do you know that now?"

Carrie-Anne cries out at the bite and squirms against her will. "Yes, Mistress! Your girl thanks you, Mistress," she gasps out.

"Good girl," Rene smiles. Her fingers thrust in harder, and she gives them a quick twist. "Come on, sweetheart. Come for your Mistress."

With a sharp shriek, Carrie-Anne obeys, coming more because she was ordered to than because Rene's fingers, however clever, brought the orgasm on. She's always loved coming on command; the idea that she can be so thoroughly owned that a mere demand for a climax will bring one on.

Purring, Rene gives Carrie-Anne one more hard bite on the shoulder and then slides off her, wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her onto the foot of the bed. Rene stretches out on her side and pulls Carrie-Anne into her arms. _How did he **ever** let her go?_

Panting softly, Carrie-Anne relaxes into the comfort of Rene's arms for a moment before she stirs. "Please, Mistress, may your girl serve you?"

 _Mistress. Your girl_. It's real now and Carrie-Anne's feelings are so mixed that if she thinks about it too hard her head spins. So it's easier to hope that Rene wants something from her. Easier to not think of the past or the future.

"Yes," Rene agrees, stretching languidly and rolling Carrie-Anne on top of her. She takes Carrie-Anne's wrist in her hand, guiding Carrie-Anne's hand between her legs and grinding hard up against it. "I want my girl's fingers in me," she murmurs, "and my girl's teeth on my neck. Get me undressed."

Pressing down a little harder with her hand before sitting up, Carrie-Anne looks at her Mistress. _God she's gorgeous,_ she thinks as she carefully works the drawstrings of the loose work out pants. She drops light kisses on the smooth skin of Rene's legs as she slides the pants all the way off. Then she's back up, hovering over Rene while trying to remove the snug thin tee-shirt without too much bother.

Finally Rene's there, naked, and Carrie-Anne hopes her eyes show her appreciation as she lies down on the bed next to Rene, moving her hand between Rene's legs carefully. _Fingers...how many does that mean? Well, two at first, I guess...and she doesn't like shyness._

It's easy because Rene's wet and that's exciting, too, knowing that her Mistress got off on hurting her. Carrie-Anne tries not to purr as she presses her fingers inside Rene, her thumb brushing up against Rene's clit. At the same time, she bends her head and bites at Rene's neck. It's more of a nip than a true bite; she'd rather be safe than too hard to start off with.

"Harder," Rene says, hips arching up against Carrie-Anne's fingers. "Faster." Her hands come up to Carrie-Anne's upper arms, and her nails dig in hard. Carrie-Anne is beautiful, and she knows what she's doing, knows how to please her Mistress. _A little confidence and you'll be perfect,_ Rene thinks, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself focused.

Working her hand harder, Carrie-Anne goes ahead and really fucks Rene with her fingers, her thumb still pressing down hard on Rene's clit. At the same time she moves her mouth lower on Rene's neck and bites down hard, sucking a little and knowing that she'll leave a mark.

 _God, this is incredible._ Carrie-Anne's never really hurt anyone before but she know her teeth have to be hurting Rene, and if she were doing this of her own volition she'd have to stop and make sure Rene was all right. But this is happening under orders and the thought is so hot that Carrie-Anne has to fight not to rub herself on the comforter or against Rene's leg.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Rene pants out, arching up into the press of Carrie-Anne's teeth and bringing a hand up to tangle into her hair. "That's it," she hisses, "that's perfect, leave marks, _hurt me, yes_ ," and she's so close she can barely breathe. Her fingers tighten, the grip on Carrie-Anne's hair turning rough and vicious while her nails cut into the skin on her girl's upper arm, and they're both going to be marked from this -- all it takes is imagining her girl's marks on her neck, and Rene comes, screaming until the breath's gone from her.

Leaving her fingers buried inside Rene, Carrie-Anne nuzzles Rene's neck carefully. Rene hasn't told her to stop and Carrie-Anne learned that with women, it's best to keep on going until told otherwise. She flexes her thumb a little over Rene's clit; if her Mistress is sensitive after orgasm, this is the best way to find that out.

" _Nn_. Stop." Rene catches Carrie-Anne's wrist and lets out a long breath, letting her head fall to the bed and sighing. "That was gorgeous," she murmurs. She manages to get one eye open and raises an eyebrow at Carrie-Anne. "Do I have my girl's marks on me?" she asks quietly.

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, looking at Rene's neck with amazement. It's a big mark and it'll linger for days and suddenly Carrie-Anne shivers at the sheer wrongness of it all, remembering how hard she worked to keep herself from ever marking up Liam during sex.

Rene takes Carrie-Anne's hand and presses her fingers into the bruise on her neck, humming with satisfaction. "That's lovely," she says. "Have you done this before? Served by offering pain?"

Only by biting her own lip does Carrie-Anne manage not to laugh at the thought. "No, Mistress," she replies, still trying not to think of Liam asking one of his slaves to hurt him. "This girl hopes she has pleased her Mistress."

 _Mistress._ The word sounds so damned good on Carrie-Anne's lips, and Rene comes up, cupping the back of Carrie-Anne's neck in her hand, kissing her hard, deep, as if she can taste the essence of those words on her girl's lips.

"That'd be a 'yes', girl," Rene purrs, nipping at Carrie-Anne's lower lip.

"Thank you, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies breathlessly. She's still nervous; Rene seems almost too good to be true and experience has taught Carrie-Anne that anything that seems too good to be true always is.

Rene drags her fingernails down Carrie-Anne's neck and sighs softly. "How's your back?" she asks. "I have something I can put on it, if you need it." The quick grin on her face is just a little dangerous. "I don't want you out of commission for longer than you have to be."

"It hurts, Mistress," Carrie-Anne offers. "But not unduly; this girl should be able to fulfill her duties."

 _And what will those duties eventually include?_ she wonders. _Will she keep wanting me to hurt her? Will I have to learn how to do more of it?_ For some reason the idea of wielding a whip -- an activity that never once appealed to her before -- at Rene's command is terribly exciting and a small odd noise, a little between a gulp and a moan, escapes before she can control her throat.

Rene grins at the sound and puts her hand over Carrie-Anne's throat, squeezing lightly for a moment before going back to light, teasing scratches. "Good," she says. "We're going to need to have a talk, you and I. I have some questions for you. But I want you to get some rest first." Her fingers go up into Carrie-Anne's hair and scratch through it gently. "You've earned it."

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress." Carrie-Anne looks around, wondering if she's to rest here or in the trundle bed or somewhere else. "Where does Mistress wish her slave to rest?"

A dozen options zip through Rene's thoughts. _Her room. No, I don't want her that far away. My bed. No, if I keep her here she'll be looking for traps and wondering what I'm going to do next_. "The trundle," she says, nodding to the side of the bed. "Two hours, and I'll get you up at the end of them if you aren't awake already."

"Thank you, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says again as she moves off the large bed and into the trundle bed. As she settles onto her stomach and tries to calm her whirling thoughts, she realizes that she's never been this happy after a punishment.


	6. Questions

Rene doesn't even try to hide the purr in her throat when she comes back in to wake Carrie-Anne up from her nap. It's been two hours -- exactly, precisely two hours, because Rene promised her girl two hours, and she wanted to hold to that promise. Even though the welts on Carrie-Anne's back are starting to look particularly lickable, and she's been wanting to run her tongue over them and have a chat with her girl ever since her girl went to sleep.

She settles down at Carrie-Anne's side, still purring softly, and runs fingernails down the center of Carrie-Anne's back. "Pretty girl," she murmurs. "Wake up for me, sweetheart."

She was dreaming -- something innocuous about grass and a big Macy's parade style balloon that looked like a car -- but Carrie-Anne comes awake quickly. "Yes, Mistress," she says. "This girl is awake."

Rene takes Carrie-Anne's wrists lightly in her hands and moves them up so Carrie-Anne's fingers are wrapped around the top edge of the trundle. She straddles Carrie-Anne's thighs and slides her hands down Carrie-Anne's arms, still purring softly. "How's my girl feeling?" she asks.

"This girl feels grateful, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, clinging to the bed and shivering a little at the touch of Rene's hands on her arms. "And sore, too, Ma'am."

"Good," Rene whispers. She bends down, hair brushing against Carrie-Anne's shoulders as she nips at the back of Carrie-Anne's neck. A nip, a soft lick, a few brushing kisses, and then Rene starts talking again. "Do you remember me telling you we'd need to talk after you were done with your nap, girl?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne replies, shivering a little harder. It'll be difficult to concentrate while Rene is making her feel this good, but while Carrie-Anne's most used to concentrating while hurt, she thinks she can handle this, too.

"Do you remember _what_ we were going to talk about?" Rene asks. She lowers herself a little further; the fabric of her shirt brushes against Carrie-Anne's skin before her breasts press down against Carrie-Anne's back. The movement isn't sudden at all; Rene's breathing stays warm and even against the back of Carrie-Anne's neck until she's pressed up hard against her girl, fingertips running up and down her arms, a touch that's too firm to risk tickling her.

"Oh...oh, thank you, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne says, hissing a little as Rene presses against her back. "Mistress said she had questions for this girl."

Rene's inner thighs are pressed hard against Carrie-Anne's hips, straddling her _just so_ , just the right way so Rene can grind down against her ass and feel the curve of it press against her clit. The pressure's good; Rene could come like this given enough time, depending on the noises her girl was making underneath her.

 _Questions..._ The word gets through Rene's distraction, and she nods, licking across a lovely red stripe that travels over Carrie-Anne's shoulder. "We talked about having you serve through giving pain," she whispers. "I like pain, girl. I like it a great deal. And I'd like to be able to order my girl to hurt me." She comes up a few inches, very much conscious of the way it slides her body against Carrie-Anne's. Her lips trace the shell of Carrie-Anne's ear, and she whispers, "How would you feel if I did that?"

Belonging to a woman might be more demanding than belonging to a man, Carrie-Anne realizes as Rene rubs up against her. Even given his age, and the accident and how much he drank, Liam still had a very active sex drive. But Rene's a woman in her prime and Carrie-Anne can't help a happy little shiver at the thought.

"Feel, Ma'am?" she asks when Rene speaks, a little confused. _Why does she care how I feel?_ "This girl would be privileged to serve her Mistress." It's actually true; it's just not all of the truth.

"Yes, you would," Rene agrees, "but I want to hear about more than that." She nips hard at Carrie-Anne's shoulder, then sends her fingernails scratching down Carrie-Anne's arms all the way from wrist to shoulder. "Tell me what's in your thoughts now, girl." Rene squirms just a little, making a soft, satisfied noise against the back of Carrie-Anne's neck. "Apart from feeling privileged, how would you feel about being ordered to hurt me?"

Whimpering a little, both from the feel of Rene on her back and the difficulty of explaining her feelings, Carrie-Anne goes silent for a moment.

"Scared and nervous, Mistress," she finally replies. "This girl is frightened she'll make a mistake and hurt her Mistress too much or the wrong way." She pauses, trying not to squirm under Rene. "Eager and confused," she finally says, very softly. "This girl liked scratching Mistress; she'd like to do it again and she's not accustomed to sadism from this side of the equation."

"Let's start at the beginning." Rene spends a few seconds tasting the top of Carrie-Anne's right shoulder, humming pleasantly to herself as she does. "Scared and nervous makes sense. It takes practice and time to get used to hurting someone. I'd either start you out slow, or we'd bring a girl home and I'd watch you practice on her first." Rene's hips press hard against Carrie-Anne's ass, and she lets out another soft hum of appreciation. "I'd like watching," she breathes, teeth scratching softly against Carrie-Anne's skin.

"Ohhhh," Carrie-Anne moans. "This girl would like to perform for her Mistress." She thinks about Liam's boys and how, every once in a while, she'd get to be on top with them. He'd never allowed her to hurt anyone beyond a rough fucking or a little biting, but she thinks she would enjoy hurting a girl for Rene. In fact, she realizes as she shivers hard, she knows she'd enjoy it.

"My girl likes performing?" Rene asks, curious. She knows so little about Carrie-Anne's likes and dislikes. She knows Carrie-Anne was often a display piece for Liam, but has no idea how Carrie-Anne felt about that. "Does my girl enjoy being watched?"

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, squirming a little. "Your girl very much likes being watched." She doesn't add that there's something thrillingly shameful about it; being put on display or handed about at parties makes her feel very owned.

"By yourself, with others? Showing off just for me, showing off for a group of interested Mistresses...?" This is interesting; Carrie-Anne's talking about her preferences, something she _likes_ , without that initial dismissive _this girl will perform as ordered_ tone that's been getting in Rene's way so far. Rene's quite pleased, and she begins kissing her way down the center of Carrie-Anne's back.

With every move Rene makes, Carrie-Anne is reminded of her earlier error, which makes it a lot easier to say what she says next. "After this girl was trained, Liam used to take her to parties to show her off. It always made this girl feel owned to perform in front of people she didn't know, sometimes by herself and sometimes with other slaves." She can't help the blush that comes from discussing this. _Owned is a good word for it but it also made me feel like a whore and a slut and, God, I liked feeling that way._ "It also makes this girl feel owned to perform for just one person, with or without others, Ma'am."

"My girl likes feeling owned," Rene observes; it's not a question. She's at the small of Carrie-Anne's back now, tongue making soft swirling patterns against Carrie-Anne's skin, and she slides a hand up the outside of Carrie-Anne's thigh. "I'd like to show you off," she murmurs. "We're not there yet. But we will be."

Rene sits up again, sliding both hands up the length of Carrie-Anne's back, a nice heavy touch against beautiful reddened skin. Her next question is very quiet. "Were you ever collared under Liam?"

"Only at public functions, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies. "Liam doesn't collar his slaves at home."

"I do," Rene says, and her fingernails dance over the back of Carrie-Anne's neck. "But I take it seriously. A collar isn't something I'd put on a girl who--" _\--who I thought was going to bolt._ "Who lacked commitment," Rene finishes quietly.

"Please," Carrie-Anne breathes. _Oh God, I want that. So fucking much._ And then she's scared. If she could want this so much now, what does that say about her feelings toward Liam. _Was it really love or was it just the best I could do at the time? And is this really commitment?_

"This girl would be honored to wear her Mistress's collar," she says, knowing her wanting and confusion are all too audible.

"When I'm ready to put it on you," Rene murmurs, "I think something simple, in silver, with a padlock. But we need to get there first." _Both of us._ "In the meantime...let's go back to what we were talking about earlier. Sadism from the submissive's side." Rene rakes her fingernails down Carrie-Anne's back, hard enough to leave white trails against her skin. "Eager and confused," she repeats, thinking back from earlier. "I like the eager. But the confused concerns me." Another hard, heavy scratch. "It's not that common seeing sadism from the bottom. I'm _not_ asking you to switch." Rene's lips curve up. "Trust me, sweetheart, you'll know who's in charge. But it could take you a while to get used to the idea. And that's fine."

"This girl is relieved, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne replies honestly. "She knows she doesn't have a dominant side to her and it would distress her if her Mistress wanted that and she could not provide it." The scratches Rene's giving her are distracting and she does her best not to squirm too much. "On the rare occasions when this girl was on top with one of Liam's boys, she knew very well who was in charge, Mistress."

Carrie-Anne stifles another moan; Rene's closeness is making her increasingly needy and she suddenly wonders what it will be like to be in this woman's house all the time. _On all the time, wanting it all the time...oh God, I hope so, this is so much better..._ She hastily quashes the thought; hope is useless to a girl in her position.

"Please, Mistress, this girl would like to know how she could earn the privilege of serving her Mistress this way."

"You give me those soft little sounds of yours," Rene says, scratching turning into something more serious now. "You do as I tell you, and you make me proud of you." She swings her leg off to the side and climbs down off the trundle, slipping out of her pants and her shirt, and runs a warm, scratching touch up Carrie-Anne's body from her ankle to her shoulder. "I'll bring home a girl for us to play with, and you show me you can give me the kind of -- mm -- _elegance_ I'm after." Rene threads fingers into Carrie-Anne's hair, then, and pulls back hard. "And in the meantime, you hurt for me, and you beg for me, and you crawl for me. Because you're _mine_."

"Oh God, yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne moans loudly. "Yours, all yours." Rene's words are like blows on already sensitive skin; Carrie-Anne can feel them marking her. "Please...God, please, Mistress, your slave begs to hurt and crawl for you." _Maybe I shouldn't hope, but I so want to believe her._

Rene smiles at that, and lets the pressure on Carrie-Anne's hair ease for a moment. It gives her the opportunity to tangle and twist her fingers up in Carrie-Anne's hair, to get a better grip, one she can hold longer. She gives Carrie-Anne's hair another long pull, nothing rough, just one long tug until Carrie-Anne's head is off the mattress and Rene's able to take in the look on her face. "Beautiful," she murmurs. "Get on your hands and knees. On the floor."

Whimpering a little at the tight hold Rene has on her hair, Carrie-Anne slides out of the bed as gracefully as she can, settling on her hands and knees. She's still not sure what kind of posture Rene prefers so she settles for keeping her back as level as possible and her eyes down but her head up, leaving some tension but not exactly tugging at Rene's hold on her hair. It feels good to be here, feels very good to try and figure out what will make Rene happy.

 _Mistress...what will make Mistress happy._

"Good girl," Rene says. She lets Carrie-Anne's hair go and trails her fingertips over her girl's face, and murmurs, "Stay." And then she's off across the room, opening up a drawer in her dresser and rummaging through it for her toys.

She tugs out a thigh harness and a sparkling silver dildo -- nowhere near as big as Liam, she expects, but big enough to feel -- and a set of nipple clamps. She heads for the chair in the corner and sits down, strapping her harness on and grinning over at Carrie-Anne. "All right, girl. Show me your crawl."

During her time in training, Carrie-Anne learned to crawl in any number of ways; she can look like an eager puppy or a skittish kitten or a slinky panther. None of that seems to be appropriate here and neither does going down to her elbows and creeping, so she simply concentrates on moving across the large bedroom as gracefully as she can, picking up her hands and not dragging her knees any more than necessary. By the time she reaches Rene, Carrie-Anne's breathing has picked up and she goes down onto her elbows and touches her head to the floor at Rene's feet, trying not to show how affected she is by this.

"Very pretty," Rene grins. "Kneel up, girl." She lets the clamps dangle off a finger and leans down to stroke fingers through Carrie-Anne's hair. "I'm going to have you show off for me."

"Your girl thanks her Mistress," Carrie-Anne murmurs as she kneels up, settling into her usual kneeling pose, knees apart, hands resting on her thighs.

Rene runs her fingertips down over Carrie-Anne's face, then over her throat, scratching lightly as the path takes her over her girl's collarbones and down to her chest. She keeps her eyes on Carrie-Anne's expression as she takes a nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinches hard, then twists hard.

Hissing between her teeth, Carrie-Anne arches her back subtly giving Rene closer access to her breasts. _This is so good...when am I going to wake up?_ She can't help the soft noise that escapes at the thought and then she wonders if that's the noise Rene -- _Mistress, damnit_ \-- wanted to hear more of.

Rene lets the twist ease and then pinches and tugs at Carrie-Anne's nipple until it's standing up for her. She attaches one of the clover clamps and gives it a critical look, tugging gently at it to get it centered just right against Carrie-Anne's breast. It looks beautiful against her pale skin, silver gleaming and casting faint shadows, and Rene exhales softly. _She really is beautiful. And mine._

That last thought comes with a much sharper tug at the clamp, and Rene leans forward to catch Carrie-Anne's cry with her lips, moaning softly as she thrusts her tongue into Carrie-Anne's mouth.

The pain from the clamp is welcome, but it's the look of approval and hunger in her Mistress's eyes that makes Carrie-Anne whimper. And then she's being hurt again and Rene is kissing her. Carrie-Anne lets her mouth go soft and yielding, but it's more than just her training. _I don't love her but, oh God, I want her._

"Good," Rene approves, leaving one last small biting kiss on Carrie-Anne's lips before pulling away. She runs her hand down Carrie-Anne's chest and rubs her thumb over her nipple, teasing at it. "Stand for me," she purrs, twisting the chain of those clamps up in her hand and making sure Carrie-Anne's got just barely enough give to do it.

Gasping at the pain, Carrie-Anne obeys. Keeping her back straight as she stands isn't easy; it would be so simple to hunch a little to get as much slack as possible, but then Rene would only pull harder and Carrie-Anne might be in trouble on top of it.

There are slaves who misbehave for the sake of getting more attention but Carrie-Anne was never like that. Early on in her contract she mouthed off to Liam once and he simply told her he didn't allow that sort of behavior and walked out. She didn't hear from him for a day and by the time he called she had vowed to never deliberately misbehave again.

Rene wouldn't walk out on Carrie-Anne for deliberate misbehavior, but she's not a mistress who encourages her slaves to act out of turn. And Carrie-Anne's careful obedience doesn't go unnoticed. Rene leans up in her chair, leans forward, and presses her lips to Carrie-Anne's skin, just between her breasts. She moves across her girl's chest, licking at the curve underneath her breast, and then finds her way up to the nipple that isn't yet bearing a clamp.

Her teeth scrape lightly across Carrie-Anne's skin as she moves up, and then her tongue flicks out, dancing over the nipple for a brief moment before teeth close in and bite down, another one of those bites that starts out soft and goes harder and harder as time ticks away.

"Oh...oh, thank you, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne gasps. Rene's teeth are far better than the clamps and suddenly Carrie-Anne realizes what makes Rene so different than Liam. She almost speaks in surprise but manages at the last minute to remember her training and remains silent except for that small whimper at the back of her throat.

 _This is intimate. Even when we were fucking or I was sucking him off, I never felt like there was any real intimacy between Liam and me._ With an ability that comes of long practice, Carrie-Anne buries the thought to be considered later when she has time.

Rene draws her teeth away from Carrie-Anne's nipple with a long, deliberate motion, licking across it with the flat of her tongue afterwards. _Oh, that sound._ That sound in the back of Carrie-Anne's throat, the one that seems to come out at the most unexpected moments -- Rene's decided that might just be the best part of having Carrie-Anne in her home.

She scratches the undercurve of Carrie-Anne's breast before reaching back up and attaching the second clamp. Another series of soft, careful tugs, and it's aligned perfectly, both silver clamps looking beautiful against Carrie-Anne's skin. Rene draws both hands to Carrie-Anne's hips, and looks up at her girl, smiling.

"Ahhh," Carrie-Anne breathes after the second clamp is attached. Aware that she's being watched she moves her hands behind her back and waits for Rene's next command.

"Pretty girl," Rene murmurs. She rubs her thumbs in small circles over Carrie-Anne's hips, and then slides a hand between her girl's legs, fingers teasing lightly at her folds. "I want to see you climb up on my lap and fuck yourself," she whispers. "I want you to keep your hands behind your back. Just like that. My God, but you're lovely." _And mine._

Aside from easing her legs open a little more to give Rene access, Carrie-Anne remains still. It's harder here to remember her training; the very intimacy that was lacking with Liam makes Carrie-Anne actually want to interact with Rene on a very different level. _Stop that, lass; you're thinking too much._

"Yes, Mistress," she says, keeping one hand locked around the other wrist as she carefully straddles the dildo strapped onto Rene's thigh. The familiar feelings of shame and desire are coiling together in her stomach now. It's exciting to actively participate in something that proves you're a slut and her moan as she sinks down on the dildo isn't just from the feeling of it filling her up.

"Nice," Rene approves. "Show me how much you like this," she goes on, reaching out to grip Carrie-Anne's hips in her hands, digging her fingernails into flesh and pressing up hard with her thigh. "Make sounds for me."

"Yes, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne says, as she begins to move. It's not difficult at all to show how much she likes it; between the feel of the dildo inside her and the awareness that Rene is watching her, she's soon moaning and gasping. She closes her eyes, concentrating on the feelings and her own movements. "Oh God...oh, ohhhh..."

Rene tucks a finger into the chain between Carrie-Anne's clamps and tugs, fairly lightly to start out with. "Good girl," she murmurs, pressing her thigh up rhythmically, watching the expressions on her girl's face. "Tell me when you're close."

"Ye...yes, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne stammers out, leaning back just a little. She bites down on her lip, not sure if Rene wants her to make this last or speed things up or what. And then she thinks about what she's doing -- _riding a dildo on her thigh while she hurts me_ \-- and it doesn't matter. "Please, Ma'am...this girl is...close, Mistress."

Rene gives the clamps a harder tug and grins up at Carrie-Anne. _So fucking pretty..._ "Good girl. Come for me."

With a strangled little scream, Carrie-Anne slams herself down on the dildo one more time and comes, her hands twisting around one another behind her back. Panting harshly she slumps a little, not quite leaning against Rene as she shudders through the aftershocks. "Your girl...thanks you, Rene," she finally manages to say.

"My girl's not done yet," Rene growls, and she gives Carrie-Anne's clamps another jerk, then wraps one arm around her girl's waist and gets her hand at her clit, pressing up hard as her thigh rocks the dildo into Carrie-Anne all the harder. "I want you to come for me," she whispers, "and keep coming until just the fucking _sight_ of you drives me over." And it could; watching Carrie-Anne's pleasure, hearing her yelp when Rene tugs on the clamps, the way Carrie-Anne's struggling to be so good for her -- _fuck_ yes, Rene could come watching that, especially if Carrie-Anne works up a sweat and goes dizzy and ends up sore from coming so much.

It's a rare man who remembers that women can be tortured with too many orgasms, but Carrie-Anne had female trainers and was loaned out to cruel enough women; she's been through this before. It's not too bad yet and she moans loudly at the hard pressure of Rene's hand on her clit. It takes another few minutes and then she's gasping, her nails clawing at her wrist as she struggles to keep her hands behind her back.

"Yes...oh God...yes, Mistress...please...close, Ma'am!"

"Oh, _fucking_ good girl, come for me," Rene growls, scratching her nails down Carrie-Anne's back, fingers pressing in hard as she watches her girl moving for her.

The noise Carrie-Anne makes is harsher this time, and she can feel the muscles in her back straining as she comes. "Th...thank you...M...Mistress," she stammers, taking deep gulping breaths and conserving her strength, while she waits for Rene to tell her to move again.

" _That's_ it," Rene hisses, "that's what I've been wanting to hear from you. Say that again." She gives a harsh tug to the clamps and leans forward, licking and biting at Carrie-Anne's breasts, any spot she can reach.

"Thank you, Mistress," Carrie-Anne manages to get out without stammering. and then Rene is hurting her again and she can't help moving, squirming on the dildo. "Oh God...your girl thanks you...Ma'am."

"I'm going to make you come one more time," Rene whispers against CA's skin. "One more time and then you're going to get on your knees and give me your mouth until my hands are fisted in your hair and I'm screaming for you. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, whimpering as she begins to move again, her already sore back burning. "Hurts, Mistress." By now she's confident enough to know that Rene will be able to tell that her girl isn't asking for mercy. _But just in case..._ "Thank you, Ma'am," she groans, her whole body working toward the next orgasm.

"Come on, girl," Rene growls, both hands reaching up to scratch their way down Carrie-Anne's back, nails digging into Carrie-Anne's hips. " _Come on_ , girl, you give me everything you've got until I tell you you can stop," and Rene slides her hand between Carrie-Anne's legs again, working at her clit, pressing in rhythmic, insistent circles.

"Yes...oh God...yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne cries out, hissing as Rene's nails abrade the welts on her back. It's so hard now; it would be so much easier if all she had to do was lie back and let Rene pound into her instead of having to actively fuck herself on the dildo which seems harder and bigger every time it goes inside Carrie-Anne.

Finally Carrie-Anne comes, screaming and unable to help herself from collapsing against her Mistress. "Tha...thank you," she barely whispers. "Sorry," she mumbles as she all but clings to Rene, her whole body shaking.

"You don't think you're _done_ , do you, girl?" Rene's growling so hard she can feel the vibration in her throat, and she puts both hands on Carrie-Anne's upper arms and shoves her back. "Tell me what we were going to do here. What your _orders_ were. After I made you come again." Rene can feel the blood rushing under her skin, can feel her pulse between her legs. She's so wet she can feel her thighs sliding against each other, can almost smell the mingled arousal between her girl and herself. She shoves up hard, one last time, with her thigh, and then gets her hands on Carrie-Anne's waist and tugs her up, off the dildo, off Rene's lap and back a step. "Tell me," she growls again, reaching under her thigh to get the harness off so she can spread her legs apart. "And then show me."

Gratefully Carrie-Anne goes to her knees, her hands still clasped hard behind her back. "Mistress ordered this girl to give her Mistress her mouth until Mistress had her hands in this girl's hair and was screaming." _And thank God you didn't go all nice on me; I don't think I could bear that._

Keeping her eyes down, Carrie-Anne tilts her head up. "This girl begs for the privilege of serving her Mistress." She parts her lips a little, not as much as she would for a man, and moves forward as gracefully as she can on her knees. It's a struggle not to lick her lips in anticipation -- _God, she smells good_ \-- but she was taught that a good slave waits. _And, oh, but I want to be good for her._

Rene slides forward to the edge of the chair, sliding her thighs apart and reaching out to take Carrie-Anne's hair in one hand. She doesn't wait for Carrie-Anne to come forward like a good slave; she _drags_ her girl's mouth into place and rolls her hips forward, hissing breath out between her teeth.

Knowing that Rene doesn't mind a little roughness helps; Carrie-Anne slides her tongue over Rene's labia in several broad firm strokes, moaning a little in surprise. _God, I'd forgotten how much I love this,_ she thinks as she captures Rene's clit between her lips and licks at it hard with the tip of her tongue.

The confidence almost shocks Rene at first, but she grins at it, growls at it, twists both hands into Carrie-Anne's hair and arches, pressing her clit harder against Carrie-Anne's lips. "There we go," she breathes, "good girl, good slave, _suck_ me," but it's getting harder to give verbal directions; Carrie-Anne's mouth is good, but her enthusiasm is incredible.

Tightening her lips a little, Carrie-Anne sucks, gently first and then a little harder, her tongue still moving slickly over Rene's clit.

"Ohhhh..." Rene whispers, and her hands go loose for a moment. Her head tilts forward as she watches Carrie-Anne between her legs, and then she's tightening her grip again, holding herself perfectly still, loving the way Carrie-Anne's tongue feels rubbing up against her clit, warm and rough and perfect. "This girl's very good," Rene breathes. "But this girl doesn't have her Mistress screaming yet."

Screaming or not, though, Rene's going over, teeth biting together as she comes, feeling the pulse of it echoing through her body, moaning when the first wave breaks and she's still gasping, still feeling her girl's tongue laving over her clit.

Feeling the rebuke, Carrie-Anne waits until Rene has ridden out her orgasm and then bares her teeth, scraping them carefully over Rene's clit. She suddenly wants to hear Rene scream and that's a little disturbing. _Think about it later,_ she tells herself firmly, falling back on old survival tricks.

Rene jerks and hisses under Carrie-Anne's teeth, but she keeps her hands tight in her girl's hair and holds her there, not letting herself jerk away. "That's good," she says, and there's a wince in her voice when she says it. "Don't stop," she warns, knowing she's going to be twitching for a few minutes until the sensitivity wears down and she starts going liquid again under Carrie-Anne's talented mouth. "And don't fucking bite me until I tell you."

Moaning something she hopes sounds like agreement, Carrie-Anne continues to alternate using her teeth and tongue. Her back aches, she's still sore from fucking herself on the dildo and her neck is getting stiff and she can't help smiling as much as she's able to.

The sensitive ticklish stage has worn off, and Rene's ready to feel more than just her girl's tongue now. She eases her grip on Carrie-Anne's hair just so she can tangle her fingers in harder and tug more, and then whispers, "Give me your teeth, girl. Soft at first and I'll tell you when to give me more."

Gently Carrie-Anne bites down, tugging a little as she does. She keeps her tongue in play, lashing Rene's clit with the tip as she nibbles carefully.

Rene lets out a long, warm purr at that, scratching her fingernails through Carrie-Anne's hair. "Good," she moans. "Harder, now."

A little impressed at Rene's pain threshold, Carrie-Anne bites down harder, tugging a little more firmly. Rene wants to scream and Carrie-Anne's shocked to realize that if she could speak, she'd beg her Mistress to scream. _God, what is she doing to my head?_

"There, _there_ ," and what Carrie-Anne drags out of her Mistress isn't quite a scream, but it's a sharp little sound that comes from her chest and not just the back of her throat. She gives Carrie-Anne's hair another sharp tug. "Just like that," she pants, "keep going, girl, just like that..."

 _Please...oh God, please._ Carrie-Anne isn't even questioning her desire to hear Rene scream any more; all she knows is that she's doing what her Mistress wants her to do. And so she keeps biting rhythmically, her own body tensing along with Rene's; if she were more disobedient, she'd sneak a hand between her legs and coax one more orgasm out of herself.

Perfect. Carrie-Anne is doing beautifully, responding to direction exactly the way Rene wants her to, and Rene's head drops forward as her orgasm starts, a few breaths and groaning gasps shaking her before she tosses her head back again and screams for her girl, letting the sound go and reveling in the fact that a girl of hers could take her this far this fast. The scream winds down and then winds back up as Rene's orgasm ebbs, rises, ebbs again, and then she's falling back into her chair, slumping down in it and giving Carrie-Anne a tiny rough push to get her lips and teeth away from oversensitive flesh.

Sitting back on her heels, Carrie-Anne forces herself to straighten up into the proper posture. It hurts like hell and she can't help hissing a little at the pull of sensitive skin over aching muscles. And all the pain and discomfort were more than worth it to know that she pleased her Mistress so much that Rene screamed like that.

And then it clicks into place. Wanting to hear Rene scream doesn't mean that Carrie-Anne's suddenly developing a dominant side, because Rene _wants_ to scream. _It's service,_ Carrie-Anne thinks happily. _I'm being a good slave when I make her scream._

"Thank you, Mistress," she says, her voice a little shaky but very fervent. She moves her tongue discreetly behind her closed lips, trying to capture as much of Rene's taste while it still lingers in her mouth.

Rene runs a finger down the side of Carrie-Anne's jaw and purrs a little more. "Good girl," she murmurs. She leans down and brushes a soft fingertip over Carrie-Anne's nipple, clamp and all. "I'm going to get these off you now. Steady for me." And the first one comes off, then the second, both with quick, easy motions.

Even though she's braced for it, Carrie-Anne can't help the faint screams that escape when Rene takes the clamps off. "Thank you, Mistress," she says when she can speak again. "Thank you...so much for letting your girl serve you," she adds, bending to touch her forehead to the floor.

Rene scratches her fingernails through Carrie-Anne's hair. "Good girl," she whispers. "You get half an hour to clean up and remember how to breathe steady again. Then I'm going to want you to get me an iced tea -- you'll find it in the fridge, it's already made up -- and after that you can have the rest of the afternoon to yourself. Got it?"

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, already breathing steadier for having been given an order. "Thank you, Mistress." _For everything_ , she wants to add but it's too early for that. _Too early to feel anything important._


	7. Gathering

Every day with Carrie-Anne has Rene wanting to push her girl just a little harder. It's been hard convincing herself not to demand everything at once. _She wants to be good so badly...and God, I want to let her._

Carrie-Anne's curled up at Rene's feet this afternoon, both women with books in hands, Rene running her fingers through Carrie-Anne's hair in a soft, scratchy motion. "We'll be having dinner early tonight," Rene says. "I've got plans for us this evening."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, immediately thinking over the meal she had planned. "This girl had planned on serving garlic beef with broccoli stir-fry, Ma'am. Would Mistress prefer something different?" At least if the meal needs to be made now, Carrie-Anne can make it; the beef is already marinating and the rice will only take twenty minutes.

She's happy with Rene and a little amazed at how quickly she's settled into a routine. She still misses Liam, but she's beginning to see her way to a time when he'll simply be someone in her past, a little more vibrant than the vanilla lovers who went before him, but no longer mourned and thought of every day.

 _I don't love her_ , Carrie-Anne thinks, as she waits for Rene's reply. _But being here is good and I seem to please her._ It's more than she expected when she left Liam's house and for that alone she's grateful to Rene.

"That sounds fine, girl," Rene says. She twists her fingers a little harder into Carrie-Anne's hair and tilts her head back, one smooth, deliberate motion until her girl's throat has just the right arch -- perfect. Leaning over to nip at Carrie-Anne's throat, Rene murmurs, "Go on and get started." Her teeth make sharp little bites up the line of Carrie-Anne's neck between words. "You're going to look beautiful tonight."

"This girl hopes she can please her mistress," Carrie-Anne murmurs a little breathlessly when Rene finally releases her. _Are we going out?_ she wonders, as she quickly makes her way to the kitchen, one hand touching her neck where Rene bit her. Rene uses her teeth a lot more than Liam did and Carrie-Anne has grown to like that a great deal.

Humming a little, she puts the rice on and starts getting the stir-fry ready. She's still a little worried about the implications of Rene's words, but it's easier not to think about that now. _Get dinner done and on the table and then go from there._

Rene grins as she watches her girl go. A week ago she'd have said tonight's activities depend on whether or not Carrie-Anne can behave herself through dinner; at this point, Carrie-Anne's good behavior is very much a given, and she doesn't have to worry about guaranteeing it by promising her girl a reward. She heads through the house to her bedroom and sets out the short leather dress she'll be putting Carrie-Anne in later tonight, along with the small velvet box she's been keeping tucked away in a drawer. Her own clothes are going to be simple tonight, and she'll change after dinner.

 _Why everyone on earth thinks high heels are sexy I'll never figure out_ , Rene thinks, setting out a pair of flats at the foot of the bed and heading back to the dining room. Dinner smells delicious, and the table's already set. Rene settles down in her chair and folds her hands in front of her, resting her chin on them and smiling as she waits for Carrie-Anne to come in.

Carrie-Anne quickly serves dinner, putting enough for two on Rene's plate and hoping that Rene will feed her again. She's gotten used to being fed by Rene but the small part of her that remains cautious knows that owners can change their patterns with startling swiftness.

Rene's plate placed in front of her and her iced tea poured, Carrie-Anne kneels next to Rene's chair, trying -- not all that successfully -- to stifle her curiosity about Rene's plans for the evening.

Rene looks the table over and lets out an approving little sigh. Her girl's done wonders in the kitchen, something she hadn't expected at all when acquiring Carrie-Anne's contract. Service seems to suit her girl very, very well, and Rene's been quite pleased by the results.

She runs a hand through Carrie-Anne's hair and looks down at her. "Dinner smells delicious," she says. "Is my girl hungry?"

"Yes, if it please you Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies. "This girl apologizes for the meal being somewhat messy," she adds a little warily. Maybe Rene won't want to feed her by hand because she turned the garlic marinade into a sauce when she did the stir-fry.

"We'll manage," Rene says. She looks over the table setting and sits back, tapping her fingernails against the surface of the table. "There's a pair of silver chopsticks in the leftmost drawer near the sink. Go and get them." She trails fingernails down the center of Carrie-Anne's back. "And don't stand up."

Crawling as gracefully as possible, Carrie-Anne makes her way to the kitchen. Finding the chopsticks take seconds and she tucks them carefully into her mouth, making sure to curl her lips around them so they won't be damp before crawling back into the dining room. She kneels up and offers them to Rene, her heart already pounding in anticipation.

 _It's Mistress' very precision that I like so much_ , she thinks. _And this is another example; Liam would never have bothered to do something this delicate with me._

Rene holds her hand out for the chopsticks, and when Carrie-Anne lets them go, Rene's eyes look them over. Her girl pays such attention to detail, and Rene wonders if that was always the case -- if Carrie-Anne was like this for Liam, or if it's something she's developing because Rene notices everything. The chopsticks are pristine, and Rene smiles as she sets them on the table and leans down, one hand cupping Carrie-Anne's neck as she takes her girl's earlobe between her teeth. One sharp bite, and then a whisper: "Good girl."

"Thank you Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, shivering at the bite. That's another thing about Rene; she's generous with praise. _Really she's too good to be true_ , Carrie-Anne thinks, not for the first time. _When will she get mean?_

Rene's fingers are deft more than nimble, certain more than graceful, but she has no difficulty using the chopsticks to select a bite of ginger beef and offer it to her girl.

Tilting her head up carefully, Carrie-Anne takes the meat off the chopsticks, not letting her teeth clink against the sleek silver. "Thank you, Mistress," she says softly.

 _Such a good girl_. Rene alternates between feeding Carrie-Anne and taking bites herself, very much pleased by the flavor. It really is a given by now that her girl's going to do her best to please her, and that suits Rene just fine.

 _Of course, it also leaves me with a number of decisions to make about what to do next..._ Rene waits until Carrie-Anne's taking the next bite off her chopsticks before murmuring, "We're going out tonight. There are some people I want to meet you."

Her eyes wide, Carrie-Anne manages to chew and swallow the bite of food, taking a little longer than she normally would. "This girl is honored that her Mistress deems her acceptable to be seen in public with her Mistress."

"It's not that unusual, is it?" Rene asks, a little surprised. "Liam expected you to be seen in public. Is there a reason I wouldn't expect the same?"

"No, Mistress," Carrie-Anne quickly replies. _Liam expected me to show up on his arm in mainstream public situations. Parties with people like us...those came later._

Rene puts the chopsticks down and pushes her chair back a bit. "Come up on my lap," she murmurs, "facing me. With your hands on the table's edge."

"Yes, Mistress." Moving carefully, Carrie-Anne does as ordered. It's not easy arranging oneself well in this kind of a situation but she does her best, arching her back a little as she rests her hands on the table.

Rene's eyes are critical as she looks her girl over. Carrie-Anne's position is beautiful, though, despite the awkward request; the line of her back and her throat is lovely. Rene's fingers start at the hollow of Carrie-Anne's throat and slide down, fingernails scratching a line down the center of her chest. "My girl knows how to present herself," she murmurs. "I don't need to spend six months testing you to be sure about that."

"Thank you Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, trying not to squirm at Rene's touch. She can't help wondering what Rene has in mind for her but knows better than to ask.

"Where we're going tonight, you're not going to be touched by anyone but me." Rene's fingertips glide back up Carrie-Anne's chest, and she cups Carrie-Anne's breast in her hand, thumb rubbing over her nipple. "This isn't what it's going to be like every time I take you out. There will be nights I let them have you. One after another until you're sore and your eyes are squeezed shut when one of them slides her fingers into you." Rene shifts her grip, takes Carrie-Anne's nipple between thumb and forefinger and twists, not too hard at first but slow and deliberate. "Nights when you come until you think you can't anymore, and you're begging me to let you stop."

Carrie-Anne can almost feel her mind go blank at Rene's words. Even she whimpers and her body reacts to Rene's touch, she's thinking about being turned over to a roomful of women. If she'd ever been inclined to think that women would be more kind than men, being loaned out to Jessica would have changed her mind.

"This...this girl hopes she can please her Mistress," she manages to stammer out. _Rene will know how much I want to be used that way, she thinks. She's too observant not to._

Rene eases her grip on Carrie-Anne's nipple, then pinches again and twists harshly. "My girl _will_ please her Mistress," she says calmly, "and she'll be punished if she makes mistakes." Rene leans forward, licks her way across Carrie-Anne's shoulder and nips at the point of it. "Rewarded for what she does right, too. When the night's over, and we've come home."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne gasps. "Thank you Mistress." She's not sure if she's thanking Rene for the pain or the correction or both and really, it doesn't matter much.

"Good girl," Rene grins, finally stroking both hands down Carrie-Anne's sides. "Are you finished eating? Would you like anything else?"

 _I don't think I could eat any more now_ , Carrie-Anne thinks. "Thank you Mistress, but this girl is finished."

"Good," Rene murmurs. "Go upstairs and get into the clothes I've set out for you. I want you kneeling on the foot of the bed when I come up, and there's a velvet box -- be ready to present it to me when I'm there."

The only thing that Rene has laid out is a black leather mini dress with a zip all the way up the front. Getting into it is a matter of seconds and Carrie-Anne notices that it fits her perfectly. _I wonder if she likes lingerie at all._ Liam did, both the really cheap trashy stuff and the fine silk and Brussels lace. Carrie-Anne actually liked it too and she once more needs to remind herself that this is not about what she likes.

Taking the small flat box in hand, she settles into her standard kneel -- knees apart and the box resting lightly in her hands -- on the foot of the bed. While she's quite curious about the contents of the box, she's not at all tempted to look into it; in a rather memorable session, Liam beat that kind of curiosity out of her.

Rene stays downstairs just long enough to do the barest minimum needed to clean up after dinner -- the cleaning staff will take care of the rest -- and then heads up to see her girl. Posed perfectly, as always; Rene wonders what it would take to see Carrie-Anne lose her poise. After all her time with Liam, probably a great deal, if anything. It's a thought.

Rene stands in front of Carrie-Anne and cups one cheek in her hand, tilting Carrie-Anne's face up so she can look her girl over. But it's her throat more than her face that has Rene's attention, and Rene leans forward to lick at Carrie-Anne's throat, a slow path from the center of it to the side, biting softly when she reaches the point where neck meets shoulder.

Shivering, Carrie-Anne lets out a soft moan. She automatically tilts her head to one side to give her Mistress greater access and as Rene bites her, Carrie-Anne's hands tighten a little on the box she holds.

Rene's fingernails scratch down Carrie-Anne's arms, and she gets a firm grip on Carrie-Anne's wrists, teeth moving over Carrie-Anne's shoulder, one small sharp bite at a time. "You haven't been mine long," Rene murmurs, "but you're still _mine_. And no one's going to question that tonight."

She pulls away and runs a fingertip over the box in Carrie-Anne's hands. "This is for tonight," she says quietly. She opens the box and lifts out a thin silver band with a tiny padlock fastening its ends together; the key's next to it, and Rene unlocks the clasp, pulling the band apart so she can fit it around Carrie-Anne's neck. "Hold still," she murmurs.

"Ohhhh," Carrie-Anne breathes. She tells herself that the collar doesn't mean anything more than the collars Liam locked on her when they went to parties, but still, her dream of being worthy of a collar all the time will not die.

"Yours Mistress," she says fervently.

Rene locks the collar on, settling the lock at the back of Carrie-Anne's neck, trailing her fingers from silver to skin to silver as she looks the collar over. It's beautiful. Her girl's beautiful in it. Rene bites at her lip for a moment, calculating time. _Just enough. Maybe. We'll see._ "Come off the bed," she murmurs.

"Yes, Ma'am," Carrie-Anne says, sliding off the bed. Rene didn't give her any instructions, and so she automatically kneels down, adjusting her normal kneeling posture somewhat due to the confines of the short dress.

"Bathroom," Rene murmurs, "with your hands on the vanity counter." She leads the way, flicking on the lights above the vanity once she's there, and crouches down so she can watch Carrie-Anne crawling to her at closer to face-to-face level. _Such a beautiful girl._ The flashes of anger that have sparked up from time to time that _anyone_ would give her away aren't as bright now as they were at first. _It was his mistake. She's mine now._

Keenly aware of the scrutiny from Rene, Carrie-Anne tries to make her crawling as graceful as possible. She moves smoothly from her hands and knees to her feet, bending over to place her hands on the counter. She can feel the air as she spreads her legs a little for balance, and she blushes a little when she realizes how wet she is just from the simple act of crawling.

Rene's fingertips glide over the backs of Carrie-Anne's hands, then follow a path up her arms and over her shoulders. One hand slides over Carrie-Anne's throat, Rene's fingers splaying out as they cover the collar, rubbing softly at the silver. Her other hand's sliding down Carrie-Anne's back, down her side, and Rene's lips curve up as her hand follows the line of Carrie-Anne's waist, slides over her hip and draws Carrie-Anne back just a little further.

Rene presses her front against Carrie-Anne's back and reaches under the hem of her dress, fingernails scratching up the inside of her thigh. She lets out a soft near-purr when her fingers slide across Carrie-Anne's folds, and she parts them, licking her lips as she feels how wet Carrie-Anne is. "Tell me what you're thinking," Rene whispers, sliding her fingers in deeper.

That order is still one Carrie-Anne is struggling to become accustomed to; Liam never cared about what she was thinking. "This girl is thinking how difficult that command is," she blurts out, only just remembering to phrase her words in formal voice. "She's not used to telling Mistress her thoughts."

 _That's_ _a new one._ "All right," Rene murmurs, beginning to work her fingers in and out of Carrie-Anne, slowly, adding a third and twisting them on the way out. "Tell me how you look to yourself," she says, the hand over Carrie-Anne's collar still toying with the silver.

Feeling her face go hot, Carrie-Anne stares at the mirror. "Like a slut, Mistress," she says softly. A word from old novels comes to her mind and it slips out before she can stop it. "Wanton, Ma'am."

"You _are_ a slut," Rene murmurs. "You're _my_ slut." Her fingers tighten just a bit on Carrie-Anne's throat. "And the women, where I'm taking you, are going to watch the way you squirm for me and they'll want to have you. Over. And over." Her fingers twist in harder, Rene's breath picking up as her hand grows wetter. "But not tonight. Tonight you're just for me." She grins, leans in and licks at the back of Carrie-Anne's neck. "I could have my hand in you if I wanted, couldn't I, girl? If we had the time?"

The idea of being taken by a group of women while Rene watches makes Carrie-Anne squirm even more. "Mistress can do anything she wants to her girl," she says, pushing back onto Rene's fingers. "If Mistress thought she had the time, this girl would beg for Mistress' hand." _Oh God I would too_ , she thinks, remembering the way Rene's fist felt inside her.

"I want to," Rene breathes. "But it'd make a poor impression on my friends if we're late. Even if it's all my fault." She grins, sliding her fingers back, bringing them forward and giving a last rough caress to Carrie-Anne's clit as she draws her hand away. "And I'm going to fuck you as soon as we get there." She grins again. "I need to dress. Knees, sweetheart; your Mistress needs her hand clean."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, trying not to sound too disappointed as she turns and slides to her knees. Opening her mouth, she leans forward to run her tongue carefully over Rene's fingers.

"Greedy slut," Rene murmurs, sliding her fingers forward, slipping them between Carrie-Anne's lips. "How much would be too much for you? How many before you'd beg to stop? How long could I watch you come for me before you'd ache?"

Unable to answer, Carrie-Anne swallows nervously around Rene's fingers. She can't help remembering the first time Liam took her to a party and had her chained to a big low coffee table. Afterward, in the car on the way home while she'd shivered and cried, he'd told her in no uncertain terms what a whore she was, what a slut. But there had been something, an underlying note of pride, that had made her feel good about the whole thing, made her want to do it again and take even more the next time.

 _Would Rene be proud of me?_

"Pretty girl," Rene murmurs. She draws her fingers back and leans down, tipping Carrie-Anne's face up and brushing her lips across Carrie-Anne's. "We'll be taking the silver BMW and you'll be driving on the way out. Go get the keys and get her warmed up for me." She grins, rubbing her thumb across Carrie-Anne's lips. "I've a few things to gather, and I want my girl surprised."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, rising to her feet. She's eager for this, more eager than she would have thought when Rene brought her here. _Not home, it's not home yet_ , she thinks as she slides her shoes on. But then she never figured out where "home" was in London. It had been what she envied most about Liam's boys; they'd been there in the big house with their owner. _Like I am now_. It's a good thought and she smiles as she makes her way to the garage and the car.

It doesn't take Rene long to get into her own clothes for the night --leather jeans, leather boots, a white tank top that's barely there at all, and her leather jacket. The bag full of _things_ she's taking is already packed, a black leather backpack she slings over her shoulder as she heads downstairs. The car is already purring by the time she makes it to the garage, and Rene grins at her girl, who's waiting at the passenger door to open it for her. "Good girl," Rene approves, sliding into the car.

"Thank you, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says as she moves around to the driver's side. Already she's probably gotten more praise than she did in all the time she was with Liam and oddly enough it makes her uncomfortable.

 _Slaves don't deserve praise for doing a good job_ , one of the trainers had told her once. _You're expected to perform well._ As she puts the car into gear and heads down the street, she worries, wondering when the gloves will come off.

Rene gives the first few directions -- right on the way out of the neighborhood, up to the highway, head east -- and then settles back, watching the line of her girl's arms as she changes gears and keeps her eyes on the road. She draws a fingernail down from shoulder to wrist, then rests her hand lightly on Carrie-Anne's wrist on the gearshift. "Have you been the center of attention at a party before, girl?" she asks.

The little part of Carrie-Anne that's never been able to accept that irony and sarcasm are not becoming in a slave wants to laugh out loud at Rene's words. "Yes, Mistress," she replies, her eyes fixed on the freeway traffic. "Many times." As she avoids yet another stupid LA driver, she wonders if Rene will ask and, if her Mistress asks, what she'll tell her.

"Okay," Rene murmurs. She's not at all surprised. Her girl used to be Liam's showpiece, after all. She feels the warmth of Carrie-Anne's wrist under her fingers as Carrie-Anne keeps her hand on the gearshift; changing gears isn't all that necessary on the highway, so Rene can afford to distract her a bit. "Did you like it?" she asks curiously.

 _Did I...what the hell kind of a question is that?_ Carrie-Anne deals with an unnecessary lane change to give herself time to come up with an answer.

"This girl did what her...the man who owned her told her to do, Mistress," she finally says, annoyed that she almost referred to Liam as her master. "She was not required to like it." _Please let that be enough._

 _Ahhh._ Rene's fingernails dig into the soft inner skin above Carrie-Anne's wrist, and she drags them up a little. "So there's the theory that slaves aren't required to like or dislike anything. Only to serve." Her nails scratch a little harder as they make their way up her forearm. "And then there's the reality that slaves who like their tasks perform better. At least by my standards. Being hurt, being humiliated, coming home in tears, none of those are going to change what happens to you. But I want you coming home eager for the next time I take you out. So we'll see what happens tonight."

At first Carrie-Anne is glad that Rene is assuming she didn't like being the center of attention at parties, and even though Rene's nails are making her gasp softly, she's still more than capable of driving. It's Rene's words that really make her stomach clench with that strange feeling she gets on roller coasters and when she's very aroused.

 _If I come home hurt, humiliated and in tears...fuck, of course I'll be fucking eager for the next time._

"This girl will do her best to make her Mistress proud," Carrie-Anne says in the soft voice that she uses most around Rene.

Rene grins to herself, knowing she doesn't need to answer that. She finishes with the directions and watches while Carrie-Anne pulls up to a secluded two-story brick house, where there are a pair of girls waiting to open the car doors once the car's at the top of the circle drive. It's not an overly assuming house, nothing too intimidating. Not any bigger than Rene's house, though it's full of people tonight and once they're in through the front door, the voices and quiet moans are audible.

Parties like this are common enough; parties like this where the guest list is almost exclusively female are less so, but then Rene selects her company carefully, and she wraps an arm around Carrie-Anne's waist, a firmly possessive grip, then leans over to bite at her earlobe. "Leave your shoes by the door," she says; there's a rack for them and it does seem that there are a number of girls going barefoot, given the collection of shoes amassed there.

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne murmurs, sliding her shoes off and putting them with the others. She looks around quickly as she rejoins Rene; the house is nowhere near as imposing as the elegant townhouses or the big country estates she visited as Liam's slave.

In a way, that makes it more difficult to deal with being here as a slave. The fact that this is a "normal" house simply reinforces what she already knew; she's not "normal" and in this setting she and the other slaves will stand out.

They do stand out; there's a gap between the look of the house, and what one would normally expect to find here, and what's actually here inside it. It's the sort of thing that both puts Rene more at ease and more on her guard.

Once Carrie-Anne's back at her side, Rene slides her hand up Carrie-Anne's back and tangles her fingers into Carrie-Anne's hair. "Hands and knees," she murmurs, "you'll be crawling while you're here." _Next time,_ she thinks, _I should leash you._

Glad that her skirt is short, Carrie-Anne drops to her hands and knees and then waits by Rene's side. Already her breath is coming faster, her heart racing with that roller coaster mix of fear and arousal. _God please let me do well here._

"Good girl," Rene grins, leaning down to scratch her fingers through Carrie-Anne's hair, over her shoulders. "Come on."

A light snap of her fingers, and Rene leads Carrie-Anne in through the door to the living room, where the floor is thickly carpeted and Carrie-Anne is far from the only girl on her hands and knees. The room's full of armchairs and sofas, mistresses and girls and the occasional naked, collared boy being toyed with by women in leather. Rene nods to the hostess, who's got a very pretty blonde girl over her lap and is delivering a fast, hard spanking, sounds sharp in the air. The hostess nods back, but it doesn't even break her rhythm, and it isn't until the girl over her lap stifles a sob that the hostess stops what she's doing and pushes the girl off her lap, letting her fall to the floor at her feet.

Keeping her head down, all Carrie-Anne can see are glimpses of other girls on their knees and a lot of boots and shoes, obviously on the mistresses. _Only mistresses,_ she notices quickly. She catches sight of a few naked boys, but no masters and she doesn't expect to see any. It's hard to control the urge to lean against Rene's leg when her mistress stops, but instead she kneels up, keeping her posture as precise as possible.

 _No matter how many times you do this,_ she thinks, _it never gets easier._

Rene slides her fingers through Carrie-Anne's hair, a motion that's familiar enough to be absent but firmly possessive. When the hostess stands up, Rene's grip goes just the slightest bit tight in Carrie-Anne's hair, tugging as the hostess makes her way over.

She's tall, taller than Rene, with long blonde hair that's braided and hangs to halfway down her back. She's dressed in black, black jeans and a tight black sweater with the sleeves tugged up to her forearms -- another piece of relative mundaneness in this place. Boots, yes, but otherwise no leather. Her eyes are green, very sharp, and there's more humor in her expression than cruelty. But then, she's also the woman who just matter-of-factly dropped a girl off her lap when she was done with a spanking that left the girl red. And she hasn't looked back to see if the girl's all right; the girl's curled into a ball at the foot of the sofa now, breath shaking out of her.

After sneaking a quick look at the woman, Carrie-Anne keeps her eyes fixed on the floor. She wants to go down, put her forehead to the floor in respect, but if Rene wanted her to do that, Rene would let go of her hair. The mistress, who must be their hostess, is beautiful but more than a little intimidating, and Carrie-Anne wonders who she is, how Rene knows her and what it's like to be this woman's slave.

"Maria," Rene grins.

"Rene -- you're finally back," Maria returns, pulling Rene into a one-armed hug that doesn't require Rene to let go of Carrie-Anne. When she steps back, she looks Carrie-Anne over, gives her a thorough and not at all subtle once-over, taking in the curve of her breasts and the line of her back.

The words of one of her trainers echoes in Carrie-Anne's head. _The wrong thing to do when you're being looked over is to straighten up or correct your posture. You should already be doing your best and if you're not, fixing it when someone is looking only calls attention to your failure._

So Carrie-Anne remains still, hoping that she's already displaying herself well enough to suit Rene and impress this other mistress.

Rene's not even looking down at Carrie-Anne; she's confident enough in her girl's poise that she's not double-checking. She releases her grip on Carrie-Anne's hair only to wind her fingers in and pull her head back just a little further, not enough to knock her off-balance, but enough to sting hard.

"My, my... and look what you've brought with you." Maria's polite enough not to reach out and touch without being asked, though. "Beautiful. Is she for anyone tonight?"

"Not tonight," Rene says firmly. "Maria, this is my slave, Carrie-Anne."

For a moment Carrie-Anne wants to pull against Rene's hold in her hair. It feels wrong not to offer this woman obeisance but obviously Rene doesn't want her to. She's also more than a little reassured that Rene has said that she won't be handing Carrie-Anne around. Of to be sure, Rene had said so earlier but Carrie-Anne learned very early on that changing one's mind was an owner's prerogative.

"Carrie-Anne," Maria says, rolling the syllables over. "I'm Maria." And Rene finally lets Carrie-Anne's hair go, lets her hand fall to her side, curious what Carrie-Anne's reaction will be.

"This girl thanks Mistress Maria for her hospitality," Carrie-Anne murmurs before lowering her head to the floor in as graceful a manner as she can.

Maria lifts both eyebrows and glances at Rene. One corner of Rene's mouth quirks up and she leans down, scratching her way down the center of Carrie-Anne's back. "Formally trained," she explains, "overseas," and she brings her hand down hard against Carrie-Anne's ass. "Coffee table," she growls. "I want you braced on your forearms, head down, knees apart."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, immediately making her way over to the coffee table. _Shit, my manners are too formal for the LA scene._ She hopes later, when they're back at the house, she'll have a chance to ask Rene if her mistress wants Carrie-Anne to modify her behavior.

Getting up on to a coffee table from your hands and knees is never easy, and Carrie-Anne's very aware that as she does her best, conversations all around the room are dying as the assembled mistresses turn their attention to her. As she assumes the required position, making sure her knees are spread as widely as she can manage, she feels her face get hot. _Mistress is going to know how much this turns me on the minute she touches me._

Maria goes back to her sofa, stepping over her girl as she goes, and Rene tosses her jacket onto the nearest empty chair. Next it's retrieving eight inches of purple silicone from her bag and tossing that to the chair as well. She pops open three of the buttons of her fly, slips the dildo's base inside, and buttons her fly back up; neat trick, and it means not having to fit a harness on over her jeans. Her hands slide up Carrie-Anne's thighs, and she presses the skirt of the dress over her hips. And _oh yes_ , Carrie-Anne's already wet, thighs slick with it. Rene grins. Her girl's so damn _responsive_ ; it's one of the things she's learning to love about Carrie-Anne. She runs a hand up Carrie-Anne's thigh, thumb going up the inside of her thigh and then gliding up and down her slit, teasing at her clit. "You look good enough to eat," Rene growls, grinning. "More than good enough to fuck hard. I want to hear you, girl."

"Ohhh," Carrie-Anne moans, glad that she's been given permission to make noise. "Yes, Ma'am, thank you Ma'am." She wants to press back against Rene's hand, wants to beg, but her training holds and she remains still, waiting for Rene's next move.

"How much does my girl want this?" Rene asks, voice dropping low as her thumb slides into Carrie-Anne, moves in and out for a few thrusts before Rene replaces it with three fingers, twisted in and corkscrewing.

"Please Ma'am," Carrie-Anne says, her voice a little strained. If being displayed in public is humiliating, being made to beg is ten times worse. "Your girl wants it so very much Ma'am." _Damn it, too formal,_ she thinks, feeling herself getting even more flustered.

"Show me," Rene says, stilling her hand. "Rock back for me. Let me feel your cunt taking my fingers. Warm and soft and wet, all over me. Show them how wet you are. What a good slut I've got. How much you're fucking dying to have me behind you, fucking you 'til you scream."

"Oh God," Carrie-Anne says, her voice so low as to hardly be heard. _Oh God if I come right now she'll be furious, but...fuck her voice..._

Sliding her knees even further apart, Carrie-Anne pushes back against Rene's hand eagerly, squirming a little. _Make your body say please, make it beg,_ she tells herself as she lowers her torso closer to the table, arching her back and making her cunt that much more available.

Rene wraps an arm around Carrie-Anne's thighs and tugs her back even further, thrusting her fingers in and twisting them, feeling the warmth of Carrie-Anne's body closing around her. "My girl," Rene breathes, "is such a slut for me. Such a whore. So wet, already, and we've barely even started yet. Are you close? Ready to beg to come, girl?"

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, not entirely sure she is ready to beg but knowing that Rene wants her to do it. "Please Mistress," she says softly. "Your girl begs."

"Good girl," Rene grins. "You're going to be exhausted from coming by the time I'm done with you. Panting for breath. Sweat slicking your hair to the back of your neck. And you're going to be--" and her hand moves in harder, Christ, and she's fucking covered with Carrie-Anne's slickness now, " _fucking_ \-- _beautiful_ ," each word coming with a fast, rough, twisting motion, "and _mine_. _Come for me._ "

"Ahhh!" Carrie-Anne cries out, her cunt tightening around Rene's fingers. In the back of her mind she's a little surprised that Rene didn't ask her for more intense begging. _She's hardly done with you lass,_ she reminds herself. "Thank you Ma'am," she says, breathlessly.

"Don't thank me yet," Rene grins, "I'm not done with you." And she means it; her pace hasn't let up at all, though she can feel Carrie-Anne's cunt tightening in spasms through the aftershocks of her orgasm. "You'll be begging a hell of a lot more than that by the time I am. Begging to come. Begging me to fuck you. Begging me to stop." She twists her fingers again, sharply, and brings her other hand down against Carrie-Anne's ass. "And my slut's so pretty when she's begging. But we haven't seen nearly enough of it. I want you to show the girls here what I bought you for. Beg for me, sweetheart." And she's growling again, her own cunt so wet she's amazed she hasn't come just from the growl in her own voice and the scent of Carrie-Anne's arousal. "Fucking _beg_."

"Please Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, still trying to keep her voice even, as Rene forces more and more physical reactions out of her. "Please, oh please...this girl begs her Mistress to fuck her, begs to come for Mistress, please?" _Oh God...oh fucking God this is so fucking good._

"No," Rene snarls, "not yet. I can feel how much you want it. It's written all over my hand. You're dripping with it. But I can't hear it. So we'll stay like this until you do." She brings her hand down against Carrie-Anne's ass again, once, twice, hard stinging slaps, and then digs her fingernails into Carrie-Anne's skin and drags them downward.

"Ohhh!" Carrie-Anne cries out, her pride suddenly vanishing as she realizes that Rene is not happy with her. "This girl is sorry Mistress... please Ma'am...please let your girl please you...please use her...please, oh God...your slut begs, Ma'am..."

"Still not ready," Rene murmurs, and she can feel the eyes of the other Mistresses on her, can sense the way the other slaves' breathing is starting to come more heavily. Carrie-Anne's beautiful, and she gives a stunning performance. But she's not where Rene wants her yet. Not desperate, not at the place where she's just vibrating need and a hole for her Mistress to fuck. _Oh, God._ And the thought of putting her girl there makes Rene bite down hard on her lower lip. "You're damn right you're getting used. When you prove you want it enough. You've got a whole room of women to convince, girl; this is all you get until you're fucking desperate for it."

"Please," Carrie-Anne whimpers, going down further until her shoulder is against the table top, her head turned to one side. She arches her back further, knowing that she's wide open now, that everyone in the room can see how wet she is.

"Need to please you," she gasps out, no longer trying to maintain her soft reverent tone. "Need to give it to you Mistress...please oh please let me hurt for you...please fuck me and make me scream...please let me be your slut...make me your whore..." She's close to tears now, her whole body straining as she moves against Rene's hand, desperate to show just how hungry she is for her Mistress.

"Better," Rene murmurs. _Better._ God, Rene's holding back her own orgasm just by the skin of her teeth; it doesn't matter that she isn't touching herself, doesn't matter that she isn't even out of her clothes. What matters is what she's _doing_ , what reactions she's drawing out of her girl. And her arm's sore and her fingers will ache from this, but it doesn't matter. "My slut," she whispers, " _mine_ , my slave, _come for me._ "

Totally unconcerned with her audience, Carrie-Anne pushes back onto Rene's hand and cries out as she comes. It's stronger than last time, she can feel the pull of this one in her already stretched stomach muscles. _God and she hasn't even fucked me yet._ "Your slave... thanks Mistress," she says blinking back tears.

"You won't," Rene says, "by the time I'm done with you." She slides her fingers out, licks her lips at the sight of them; slick and glistening. But Carrie-Anne's still spread out in front of her, cunt still dripping, and Rene leans down to lick at Carrie-Anne's slit, parting her folds with her tongue and then driving her tongue in hard.

"Oh God...oh God...thank you," Carrie-Anne gasps out, a little shocked that her Mistress is going down on her in public like this. "So good...to your whore...thank you Ma'am." The next orgasm is close; once more she can feel her body tensing in anticipation. "close... so close Mistress!"

Rene brings both hands up, uses her thumbs to hold Carrie-Anne open even further. "Come," she growls out, and then licks up and down Carrie-Anne's slit, tonguing her clit before sliding her tongue into Carrie-Anne's cunt once again.

This time Carrie-Anne can't manage any words, just a short harsh yell as she comes. Her hands claw briefly at the table top and she can't help pulling away from Rene just a little. "Than...thank you...Ma'am," she gets out as she pushes herself back into position.

"Mmm." Rene draws back, puts a hand on the back of Carrie-Anne's neck. "My girl's gotten her Mistress all messy. You'd better clean her up before she fucks you."

Hissing a little, Carrie-Anne turns around a little gingerly. She's nowhere near her limit but she is starting to feel the burn a little. Not enough to make her beg for it to stop, particularly knowing that begging for it to stop would get her nowhere.

Kneeling up on the table, Carrie-Anne opens her mouth and rests her tongue lightly on her lower lip. _I'll show all these California girls just how good my training was,_ she thinks.

Rene slides her fingers into Carrie-Anne's mouth -- two at first, then the third, watching more than feeling it. She's fucking her girl's mouth with her fingers, watching Carrie-Anne take them, and oh _hell_ yes, her girl looks fucking beautiful doing this. _And she's got pride about that,_ Rene realizes, _not quite the confidence I want her to have, but pride._ One's the goal; the other's going to get in the way of it if Rene's not careful. " _Suck me_ ," Rene hisses.

This is familiar territory and Carrie-Anne's mouth works eagerly over Rene's fingers, her tongue gliding over and around and down the creases between each fingers before taking them as far down her throat as she can. Again she feels a little bit of pride; after years of being Liam Neeson's slave there isn't much she can't deep throat.

It's impressive work -- but it's not something unique; most of the girls here could do it. Hell, Rene could do it herself once upon a time, though she hasn't been asked to try in almost twenty years. Worth approval, but not a compliment, and Rene leans down when Carrie-Anne's finished, kissing her girl hard, letting Carrie-Anne take her own taste off her Mistress's face.

Kissing back eagerly but not aggressively, Carrie-Anne moans into Rene's mouth. _How much more,_ she wonders. _She gave me a break with her mouth and now the kissing but she hasn't even fucked me with that thing yet._ Even knowing that she'll end up hurting --all right because she knows she'll end up hurting -- Carrie-Anne is more than ready for the next stage of this performance.

Rene reaches down, takes one of Carrie-Anne's hands and wraps it around her cock. "This is what you're getting," she growls softly, "in front of everyone, so they can find out what an eager little slut you are for me. And your cunt's going to be sore and tired long before I am. But you're still going to give them a good show. Even when you're begging and crying and hurting and all you want is for it to stop."

"Please Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, her hand moving over the sleek silicon of the dildo in same motion she'd use to stroke a real cock. "Please make your girl hurt for you. Please let her give you her tears." It sounds good now, but she knows that all too soon Rene will have her breathless and stammering.

"Hands and knees," Rene growls, getting her hand up to Carrie-Anne's upper arm and shoving her roughly. She _is_ impatient, but she's giving it more of a show than she'd really need to for her own benefit, or for Carrie-Anne's. "Don't make me wait for you, girl."

Moving quickly, Carrie-Anne settles into position. "Please Mistress," she says, making sure her knees are as far apart as she can manage and still keep her balance. "Your girl begs you to fuck her."

Begging makes no difference -- and Carrie-Anne's been at this long enough to know it makes no difference -- but God, it sounds pretty. And Rene's done teasing; she wants to move against her girl, grind her hips forward, wants to hold her girl down and fuck her and she wants it _now_. She puts one hand on Carrie-Anne's lower back and guides her cock in with the other, not taking it slow in the least. Her girl can handle this, has handled a hell of a lot more than this, and now Rene's just using her, just fucking her because she needs it this way, because her girl will look fucking gorgeous impaled on eight inches of purple silicone, because the women in this room love a good show and the girl on the table can give them one.

Not sure if her Mistress wants her to move or be still, Carrie-Anne settles for arching her back some. Otherwise she lets Rene set the pace, gasping at each thrust of the dildo -- so different than a real cock but still filling her up and making her want more. "Thank you Mistress," she cries out, fighting off the orgasm she can feel building up. "Your girl thanks you!"

"My girl _better_ thank me," Rene growls, reaching forward, hooking the tip of one finger into Carrie-Anne's collar. "My girl's such a greedy slut. Taking it this way in a room full of strangers. Dressed like a whore and grateful for the fucking _privilege_. There's nothing you wouldn't do for me right now. Nothing I couldn't make you take for me. And you--" sharp, hard thrust, free hand sliding to Carrie-Anne's hip to tug her back even harder-- " _fucking_ \-- know it."

 _Oh fuck but she's good,_ Carrie-Anne thinks. It's really the first time, Rene's made a concerted effort to humiliate Carrie-Anne and Carrie-Anne's not at all surprised to find that her mistress is as good at this as she is at everything else.

"Take anything for you Mistress," she gasps out. "Beg for anything... from you Mistress...oh God...please Ma'am...your girl is close!"

"Go on," Rene says. Almost sneers it, really. "If my girl's such a whore she's close again already after we've barely gotten ourselves started, she can just come--" and she slams her hand down across Carrie-Anne's ass, "and _keep_ coming--" another hard slap, "until she can't fucking _breathe_ from it."

"Yes, Mistress!" Carrie-Anne yells. "Oh God...God...thank you...Ma'am..." She can already tell where she'll feel this later, beyond the obvious places -- her cunt and her throat from the yelling and screaming -- she knows her stomach will hurt from tensing so much and that her thighs will ache. And she wants all of that. "God," she moans, not even performing now. "Such a...whore for you Mistress... such a slut."

"I know," Rene murmurs, scratching her fingernails hard down Carrie-Anne's thighs as she slows her pace down. But slowing down's just a tactic to keep Carrie-Anne from guessing what she's going to do next; before Carrie-Anne can get used to the new rhythm, she's speeding up again, one hand sliding under Carrie-Anne's body so her fingers can slide through damp curls and her fingers can seek out Carrie-Anne's clit, rubbing in fast, firm circles. "My beautiful little slut's so fucking greedy," she whispers. "There's not a woman in this room who doesn't want to fuck you right now. Who doesn't want to feel your cunt around her fingers. I've had girls who were fisted by mistress after mistress while I held them down and watched them beg."

This time Carrie-Anne doesn't know if it's Rene's words or her Mistress' touch that has her wailing, all she knows is that she's on the edge of another orgasm. It's a big one this time and Rene is pounding it out of her, shaking it loose until Carrie-Anne has to open her mouth again and beg, even if she's not sure she's capable. "Please...close...please..." she stammers out, her body rocking in time with Rene's thrusts.

Not too long and Carrie-Anne won't be able to get out words at all. Rene hopes it's soon. She's not tired yet. She's actually feeling more energized than ever, dragging her girl down this far, and after giving Carrie-Anne a few more harsh thrusts, she growls, " _Now,_ slut. Fucking give it to me."

With a harsh scream that will leave her throat aching for days, Carrie-Anne comes hard, her fingers scrabbling uselessly at the slick surface of the coffee table. When she finally lifts her head again and looks around through tear blurred eyes, she can see that everyone in the room is staring at her and Rene avidly. "Yours," she groans more for the benefit of the audience than to tell her Mistress what Rene already knows and is proving yet again.

"Good girl," Rene whispers. _So good for me._ "Not done with you yet, sweetheart. And my good little slut knows that full well, so don't you fucking collapse on me, girl, because your mistress wants to see you come one more time." Rene keeps her fingers on Carrie-Anne's clit, knowing exactly how sensitive she must be, feeling her girl flinching underneath her already. _Doesn't matter. You can do this. You can do it for me._

"Hurts," Carrie-Anne whimpers, very much beyond shame now. It doesn't matter that it hurts and even though she's as wrung out as a damp dish rag, Carrie-Anne know that and even guesses that Rene likes that it hurts. "Hurting...for you...oh God," Carrie-Anne moans as she feels her body reaching to give Rene the next -- _last please God_ \-- orgasm. "Please Ma'am...please...hurts..."

"I know," Rene growls. "Give it to me anyway. Like the good little whore you're trying to be for me. My girl likes it hard and deep and until she's begging and crying for it. _Show them._ " And that last comes with a thrust that grinds Rene's pubic bone hard against Carrie-Anne's ass, a move that she could probably come from herself if she were in the right headspace for it.

Carrie-Anne's scream is harsher now and it tears at her already sore throat. She's crying as well and shaking her head as if to say "no!" even as she gives her mistress the climax Rene demanded of her.

No longer able to remain on her hands, Carrie-Anne slumps to her elbows, burying her face in her arms as she cries, her whimpered words barely audible. "Hurts...please Ma'am...want...want to be...good...thank you...please..." She's been here before and knows that this could easily be just the beginning of the evening for her. _I haven't begged her to stop,_ she thinks. _Haven't tried to get away and needed to be held down, haven't gone limp and just let her do whatever she wants to me._

Whimpering and babbling and crying. _Oh, God, she's beautiful._ And the rest of what she wants from her girl doesn't need an audience. Not the way this did. Rene slides her hand up Carrie-Anne's back, tucks her fingers into Carrie-Anne's collar and tugs gently. Her hips slow, then stop, and she pulls out, snapping the dildo back out of her pants and setting it down. "My girl wants to be good for me," she whispers. "Next time you'll be good for anyone who wants you."

Rene's been all but ignoring the room, part of her nervous about being back here after so long. But she's never had a girl she was so proud of, and she's got the rush going up her spine that reminds her _I can do this. I can put a strong girl on her hands and knees and fuck her until she's crying and begging for anything I want to give her, and I can make it good for her and the twenty women watching us._

She leans down, presses a kiss to Carrie-Anne's hip and then bites hard, sucking at one spot until a bruise forms under her lips.

In spite of her fatigue and the pain already making her cry, Carrie-Anne can't help responding to both the bite and Rene's words. "Yours," she whimpers. "All yours...Mistress."

" _Mine_ ," Rene whispers, digging her thumb into the bruise and standing up again. She glances around the room and wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thank you for the audience," she says, nodding to Maria.

"Mm. Thank you for the show," Maria says, squirming just a little in her seat. She's got her hand tangled into her slave's hair all over again, and Rene has every suspicion that the pretty blonde girl is going to be next up on the table. And this time it _won't_ be hands-off.

But that's not what she wants right now. Right now she wants to be home, wants to pin her girl up against the front door and fuck her all over again, feel Carrie-Anne's legs around her waist and slam her into the oak until Carrie-Anne's screaming and clawing at her shoulders. "Come on," she tells Carrie-Anne, giving her one more hard slap on the ass. "We're going home, girl."

"Yes, Mistress,' Carrie-Anne says, her voice both harsh and a little dreamy. It's easier to just slide off the coffee table and then go to her hands and feet. _Oh God I hope I can pull it together enough to drive home,_ she thinks as she crawls to Rene's feet. Once there she lowers her head and very softly kisses the toe of Rene's shoe before turning to bow her head again, this time putting her forehead to the floor in front of the other Mistress.

"Think you're going to get tired of those formal manners?" Maria asks with a grin.

Rene shakes her head, collecting her things and then leaning down to trace a finger over Carrie-Anne's collar. "Oh, I doubt it. But I'll fuck them out of her if I do."

There's a bit of soft laughter, and Maria uncoils herself from the couch, ignoring Carrie-Anne and coming back to hug Rene again. She lands a hard kiss on Rene's lips and then gives her a friendly slap on the ass. "Don't stay away so long next time," she warns. She glances down at Carrie-Anne, a grin all over her face. "I want to see what she looks like chained down and bruised all over."

"You'll get to," Rene promises. She pulls away and glances down at her girl. "Come on," she grins, snapping her fingers lightly and then leading the way slowly out of the room, with enough time for Carrie-Anne to follow on hands and knees.

The comments mostly wash over Carrie-Anne, who's having to work hard to keep her arms from trembling visibly. She can't help a very soft whimper when her Mistress makes her promise to Maria, and she thinks Rene and at least one of the nearby slaves heard her. _Not that it matters,_ she thinks as she crawls after Rene and hears the sound of another girl being put up on the coffee table.

Out in the hall, Rene helps Carrie-Anne to her feet. "Helps" might be pushing the term a little; she slides her fingers into Carrie-Anne's hair and tugs, getting her girl upright and not easing up on her grip until Carrie-Anne's on her feet.

Shivering a little Carrie-Anne makes it to her feet, although her movements lack her usual grace. "Please Mistress," she says softly. "Your girl...if Mistress wishes her girl to drive, may she run the heater in the car?"

"Mm-hm," Rene agrees. _Patience, woman; get her home before you start looking for surfaces to fuck her into._ The table near the doorway's got a mirror in front of it; Rene's tempted to stop Carrie-Anne from putting her shoes on and just take her all over again. But no, they've done enough here. "Get your shoes, girl."

Drawing a deep breath, Carrie-Anne hastily gets her shoes and then gets the door for Rene. It's not that cold outside -- in fact it's a fine mellow LA evening -- but she's still shivering as she opens the car door for Rene.

"Good girl," Rene grins as she slides into the car. She buckles herself in and waits for Carrie-Anne to climb in as well. "Do you remember how to get home?"

With a slight frown, Carrie-Anne tries to mentally retrace the route. "This girl apologizes," she says as she starts the car and puts the heater on. "She thinks she does but she begs her Mistress' indulgence and asks for correction if it looks like she's going the wrong way."

"I think every time you look like you're heading the wrong way, I'll have to stripe you for it," Rene muses. "And every time you make a correct turn without being told, I'll stripe you twice."

 _And what if I crash the fucking car trying to figure that one out?_ Carrie-Anne thinks in a moment of unusual ill temper. In moments like this her inner voice cracks, something Liam long suspected and tried to beat out of her every time she let it slip.

Tonight however, she's honestly too to do anything but she concentrates on her driving, making it home with only two corrections from Rene. She's too tired to count up the stripes she has coming and she wonders if she'll get them tonight. At that thought she can feel her body taking an interest in things again. _Jesus but your a whore, lass,_ she thinks.

It's a good thing Rene doesn't have any idea what her girl's thinking. She'd be spending the next three days in a full head hood and with her hands cuffed behind her, and the last thing she'd be getting is stripes or the harsh fucking Rene's got in mind for when they get home. There's spirit and then there's sass, and while Rene's not Liam and never will be, she's got her limits.

But she's got a mental count of the stripes she's going to lay across Carrie-Anne's ass now, and her girl's backside's going to be a gorgeous little lacework of lines by the time she's done. It's not going to be tonight, but it'll be a good thing to mull over and bring up when Carrie-Anne's not expecting it.

The car safely in the garage, Rene steps out without waiting for Carrie-Anne to get the door for her. She's around to Carrie-Anne's side of it before Carrie-Anne's out of it herself, and she's just barely patient enough not to yank the car door open and get Carrie-Anne out of it by the hair. "Inside, girl," she says. "Come on."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says in what is almost but not quite a yelp. Her body's most definitely interested in spite of her aches and discomfort and she winces a little. _I'm not going to be able to function in the morning_ There was an advantage, she suddenly realizes, to not living with Liam. _I had time to recover from nights like this. Here I have to make breakfast._

Inside, then; the door to the garage opens up into the kitchen, and once they're both inside, Rene snags Carrie-Anne's wrist and yanks her back, bracing her own back against the door and wrapping an arm around Carrie-Anne's waist. "My slut's not going anywhere," she growls. "Do you know how good you looked tonight?" she asks. "How good it felt putting you on your hands and knees and fucking you until you could barely stand it?"

"This girl is happy to have pleased her Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, meaning every word as she nestles back against Rene. "She did her best to look good for Mistress and Mistress' friends."

"My girl," Rene whispers, biting sharply at Carrie-Anne's neck, "was fucking _gorgeous_ tonight," and she's jerking at the zipper on Carrie-Anne's dress, jerking at the leather and being careless of her nails as she shoves the material off Carrie-Anne's body.

"Thank you Ma'am," Carrie-Anne says wincing as her position strains already tired muscles. When Rene's nails come into play, Carrie-Anne gasps and moves restlessly, not sure if she's trying to get away from the new stimulation or angling herself to get more of it.

The leather puddles to the floor at Carrie-Anne's feet and Rene lets her girl kick out of it, then pulls her back again. Carrie-Anne's ass is pressed tight against the fly of Rene's jeans, and Rene grinds her hips forward, bracing her back harder against the door while she squirms and finds just the right angle for the grind. " _There_. Show me what a good slut I've brought home," Rene whispers, reaching up to Carrie-Anne's chest, cupping her breast in a hand and rubbing her thumb over the nipple. "I've been close since I watched you coming for me the first time." Thumb and forefinger close, pinching hard, and Rene grinds forward again. "Move for me, girl. Get me off just like this. Here. Against the door."

Pressing her hips back, Carrie-Anne hopes she has the right angle for her Mistress. "Want to be your good slut, Mistress," she moans. "Want to make you feel good." It's true too, she's desperate to please Rene and the pain from Rene's fingers doesn't change that desperation at all.

The angle's perfect -- not that it would take much, hearing the tone in her girl's voice, knowing what Carrie-Anne's done for her and what she's _still_ willing to do. "God, yeah," Rene breathes, "my girl, my slut, _mine_ \--" And with one more harsh, panted growl, Rene's coming, eyes slamming shut as the sensation curls and tightens in the pit of her belly and then spirals outward, wave after wave taking her, making her tighten her grip on Carrie-Anne and shake, hard, from the pleasure of it all.

Whimpering -- and not just because Rene's fingers have tightened even further on her breast -- Carrie-Anne just goes still through Rene's orgasm. She loves this sort of thing, the feeling that she's just an object to be used like any other thing Rene owns.

Rene gets her eyes open, panting against Carrie-Anne's skin. " _Mmm._ " She eases her grip on her girl just a little, smiling, and then manages to stand, a purr coming up in the back of her throat as she does. "Good girl." She gives Carrie-Anne a light push, in the general direction of the doorway. "Oh, God. Your Mistress wants a bath. One with her girl in it, too. Go run us one, girl."

A bath sounds perfect and Carrie-Anne smiles as she bows her head. "Yes, Mistress, thank you Mistress," she murmurs before heading quickly toward the big bathroom in the master suite. _A Bath and then maybe I can beg her to let me sleep. Unless she wants to give me those stripes tonight._

Rene leans back against the door and stretches, raising her arms above her head and arching her back. _Such a beautiful, beautiful slave._ She grins as she starts making her way back to the bathroom, peeling off her clothes one piece at a time; her girl can clean them up when Rene gives her half a moment's pause to do it. Probably tomorrow afternoon.

By the time Rene comes into the bathroom, the bathwater is running and the room already smells like the lavender and chamomile bath salts Carrie-Anne added generously to the tub. She kneels by the tub after laying Rene's big bath sheet over the towel warmer. Although Rene said she wanted her girl in the bath with her, Carrie-Anne knows to wait until her mistress is settled before joining her.

"Would Mistress like anything to drink or snack on?" she asks, keeping her eyes down although she wants to stare at Rene eagerly.

Rene tousles her fingers through Carrie-Anne's hair before stepping into the bathtub and settling down. "Mistress would _love_ a glass of iced tea," she says, moaning and rocking from side to side a bit as she settles into the bathtub. "You can fetch yourself something, too, as long as you're back here in a hurry."

Quickly returning with a couple of plastic glasses of iced tea, Carrie-Anne settles them on the wide rim of the tub carefully avoiding looking in the mirrors. She makes sure all the bath things are right at hand before sliding into the tub with a grateful sigh. "Thank you Mistress; this feels wonderful."

"My girl deserves it. I was very pleased with you tonight." Rene takes a long sip of her iced tea and watches Carrie-Anne settle down. Not that she expected her girl's eyes anywhere but on her Mistress, but there was something about the way Carrie-Anne zeroed in and didn't look away for an instant that felt...off. She'll definitely have to think about that later.

"Thank you Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, her hand going up to her collar. "It means a lot to your girl to know her mistress is pleased with her," she adds, her tone of voice making the words more than mere rote formality.

The water splashes just a little around Rene as she comes forward, leaning across the tub, sliding a hand to the back of Carrie-Anne's neck and rubbing over the collar with her thumb. "This looks so good on you," she murmurs. "It's not the sort of thing I could tug on to take your breath out from under you... but it's damned pretty. And it shows you're _mine_."

"Yours," Carrie-Anne says, her eyes going big at the mention of breath play. It was one of the many things that Liam reserved for his boys and she used to wonder what the appeal was Now...well now it sounds damn good. But talking about the collar sounds even better.

"Your girl felt very privileged to wear it Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, sounding almost tentative. It won't do to sound demanding but she wants Rene to know how much she liked the collar, how much she wants to wear one all the time.

Rene slides her fingertip around the collar's edge. "This one's going to come off before we go to sleep," she says quietly. "But if my girl likes collars... she'll get the chance to earn having one that she gets to keep."

Carrie-Anne tries but she can't quite keep the disappointment from her face. "Your girl would very much like to ear a collar, Mistress," she says quickly. _It's not supposed to be easy lass._

"Different collars for different reasons..." Rene sits back, feeling water splash over her shoulders and sighing. "Posture collars. Collars you can wear while you're working. At premieres. Collars I put on you so I can leash you. Ones I can use to choke you." Rene lifts an eyebrow. "Does anything appeal to my girl?"

"All of it Ma'am," Carrie-Anne says, shivering. "This girl would be honored to wear any collar her mistress put on her." She pauses and then looks down at the water as she continues. "Liam never choked this girl but he'd do that with his boys and this girl always wondered what it would be like."

Rene's breath eases out of her slowly, and she nods. For once it doesn't sound like Carrie-Anne had to bite back _Master_ when she said Liam's name, and the sound of it was damned good. "I'd like to see you there," she murmurs. _It hasn't even been a month yet. Think of all the things I can do to you in five more months._

 _Damn it,_ Carrie-Anne thinks. _It's not fair how she can just say something or look at me and I get all ready again._ "This girl will beg Mistress for that," she says, trying not to squirm.

Rene flashes Carrie-Anne a grin. Not a particularly nice grin; it's more the sort of grin that seems to be debating whether it'd be better to pin Carrie-Anne to the floor by the throat and fuck her until she's screaming or to put a set of clamps on her and then chain them to the ceiling for a few hours. "Believe me," she grins, "you will."

The water's warm, soothing, and having a glass of iced tea while soaking in the tub and pondering things to do to her girl is a perfect way to end a good evening, Rene thinks. After the water's cooled off a bit and Rene's sure her skin is starting to shrivel, she nods to Carrie-Anne and then to the towel rack. "I'm ready to get out," she murmurs. "Dry off and then have a towel ready for me."

Quickly sliding out of the tub, Carrie-Anne dries herself off and then holds out a warmed towel, waiting as Rene steps out.

Quickly sliding out of the tub, Carrie-Anne dries herself off and then holds out a warmed towel, waiting as Rene steps out. Keeping her eyes on her mistress, she begins at Rene's shoulders and works her way down, quickly but thoroughly drying Rene off. She ends up kneeling, and presses a soft kiss to the top of Rene's foot before getting up to get a towel for her hair.

When Rene sits down at her vanity, Carrie-Anne moves behind her, first drying her hair and then taking the brush Rene hands her. She loves working on Rene's hair like this, as if she were Rene's ladies maid and that thought gives her an idea. Rene's amazed Carrie-Anne by actually listening to Carrie-Anne's ideas even if she doesn't agree with them, but Carrie-Anne's still a little nervous about speaking her mind.

"Mistress, may this girl respectfully make a suggestion?" she asks, her voice soft and careful.

"Mmmm." Carrie-Anne is always careful with Rene's hair, and it's become a soothing ritual near the end of the night, one that puts Rene in a pleasant frame of mind. "My girl can if she'd like."

"Thank you Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies, carefully working her fingers through a tangle in Rene's hair. "This girl wondered if Mistress had considered having her girl trained as a ladies maid."

"Would my girl like more training?" Rene asks, getting her eyes open and looking at Carrie-Anne in the mirror. "I like my girl's instincts a great deal. But then I'd like to see my girl more polished in certain areas, too. Lady's maid's a good thought."

"Your girl would like being trained for you, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says. It's true too, which is a little surprising. She wants to be trained in something Liam would never have bothered with, something that's specifically for Rene. It's a strange realization and Carrie-Anne puts it aside for pondering on her own time.

"I'll make some phone calls this week," Rene says. She's still looking at Carrie-Anne in the mirror, watching how much care she's taking with her task. _Beautiful._ As the last strokes of the brush run through her hair, she sighs, and once Carrie-Anne's put the brush down, she half-turns, wraps an arm around her girl's waist and pulls her in close, nails biting into Carrie-Anne's hip. "Good girl," she murmurs.

"Thank you Mistress," Carrie-Anne says softly, nestling in against Rene. It's good to be cuddled like this, good to be held this close when she's this tired. And Rene's nails are perfect, the little cruel points of pain serving as a reminder of what their relationship is based on. "Yours Ma'am," she adds quietly.

"Bed," Rene purrs against Carrie-Anne's skin. "And you're sleeping with me tonight." Carrie-Anne's been in Rene's bed too many nights in the last three weeks, but fuck it. Tonight her girl was very, very good, and Rene wants to go to sleep holding her. Wants to wake up and crawl up the bed to straddle Carrie-Anne's face, taking her girl's mouth before either one of them has been awake more than a few minutes.

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne says, waiting until Rene's let go of her before dropping to her knees to crawl into the bedroom. She knows better than to climb in bed without a direct order, and so she waits, hoping she's not looking at the bed too longingly. It's taken a little adjusting on Carrie-Anne's part to get used to sleeping with someone, but she likes it a lot. She likes the way Rene sometimes wakes her up in the middle of the night just because Rene wants to hurt her or wants to use Carrie-Anne's mouth or hands. Sometimes Carrie-Anne worries that she likes being with Rene _too_ much, but she doesn't love the woman and as long as she can say that, she's sure she'll be fine.

Rene follows Carrie-Anne back to the bed. She pulls the covers aside and climbs in, turning over on her side and looking down at Carrie-Anne, just watching her for long moments. Only three weeks and already she's grown more fond of this girl than any of the ones she's had in years. Only three weeks and she's sure now that Carrie-Anne isn't going to bolt.

"Come up on the bed," she murmurs. Her voice is sleepier than she'd realized; it's been a long night.

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies. She slides into bed with Rene, moving close but not into actual physical contact -- that's Rene's move to make. "Mistress if your girl may be so bold...she thanks you for this evening. She...she hopes Mistress was pleased enough with her girl to consider taking her to parties again, even though it's good to be home now."

 _Home._ Rene's glad it's dark in the room. In the darkness, her girl won't be able to see the grin all over her features, which is not at all the usual predatory grin she wears around Carrie-Anne. She slides an arm around Carrie-Anne's shoulders and pulls her close. "Mm-hm," she murmurs, still sounding sleepy, "but next time I'll be watching as my girl takes on a dozen or so before we come home."

"Yes, Mistress," Carrie-Anne replies softly. She likes these moments when, as she falls asleep, her mistress mentions things she plans on doing to her slave. She nestles into Rene's arms and lets herself relax. _Home,_ she thinks. _When did that happen?_


End file.
